


Let Me In- A Collection of Rick/Negan Ficlets

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A little bit of everything, Alternate Scenes, Angst, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Smut, some canon some au, some comicverse some tv-verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 30,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: A collection of standalone Rick/Negan drabbles, ficlets, and alternate scenes from my other fics





	1. “Well this is awkward…”

**Author's Note:**

> It was suggested that I put my prompt fills from Tumblr into a collection on here, so here we are! None of these are very long, and there will be quick descriptions/ content warnings if necessary before each chapter. These are all standalone things with the exception of the alternate scenes, which are (currently) all from my other story, The Truth.

“Well this is awkward…”

Rick could only stare in confusion. “What…what the hell are you doing?”

Negan coughed in a lame attempt at covering a nervous laugh. “I, uh. I thought you wouldn’t be home for a while.”

A laugh escaped Rick’s lips, “God, I hope so. I really hope you weren’t planning on me finding you like this.”

“You still love me, right?” Negan gave his best shot at a winsome smile, which was difficult considering how utterly ridiculous he was sure he looked.

Rick’s eyes scanned Negan’s body. He looked torn between exasperated annoyance and laughing his ass off. “So…what exactly were you hoping to accomplish here?”

“Goddammit, Rick, I was just curious, okay? You always look so damn irresistible…”

“So you decided to put my damn uniform on?” Rick bit into his lip as if he was trying to physically contain his laughter. Negan would have called him an asshole, except he really  _hadn’t_ intended to get caught. Rick had gone to pick Judith up from preschool, and he figured he had some time to himself. So, yeah, he may have been a little curious to see if Rick’s sheriff uniform looked as good on him as it did on Rick.

It didn’t. Where the pants were just the right amount of tight on Rick, they fit poorly on Negan and hung far too short. The shirt was too tight across his shoulders, and he hadn’t even bothered buttoning it up. And the  _hat_. He didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that the hat looked beyond stupid perched on his head, like a kid playing cowboy. How Rick managed to make any of it look sexy was beyond him.

Rick sidled up to him and tugged at the lapels of the open shirt Negan wore. “You look like a kid playin’ dress-up,” He grinned up at Negan, and Negan shot an unamused glare right back down at him.

“Fuck you, Rick. This is one of those times where you’re supposed to step outta the room and we pretend this never happened. Preserve the remnants of my damn dignity.”

Rick’s tongue slid between his teeth as he chuckled, a habit Negan swore up and down that Rick picked up from him. “You know, Carl used to wear my hat around the house all the time when he was younger,” Rick smirked and flicked the brim of the hat.

Negan groaned and wrenched the hat off his head, tossing it onto the bed. “Alright, I got it, I look ridiculous. I got that before you came in, actually. I’m fully convinced that you’re the only one on this whole goddamn planet that can pull off this ridiculous getup and still look fuckable.” He moved to pull off the shirt, about to toss it on the bed before Rick caught it midair and started rummaging through their closet for an empty hanger.

“It’s a gift, I guess,” Rick threw a wink in Negan’s direction, motioning for him to hand over the pants as well.

Negan stripped them off and handed them over to Rick, waiting for him to finish folding them before pulling him in close.

“Nobody was meant to look that goddamn sexy all the fucking time, Rick. It’s a fucking superpower. Teach me your ways.” He moved his hands down to Rick’s hips and pressed their lips together, loving how the shorter man melted into the contact.

Rick pulled back a moment later, lips and eyes shining. “Get your ass on the bed, and I’ll teach you a lesson.”

Negan rumbled a pleased sound low in his throat. “No fucking problem, Rick. Just do me a little favor, would you?”

Rick tilted his head up at Negan. “What?”

Negan reached back onto the bed to snatch up the hat he’d discarded there and dropped it onto Rick’s head.

“Wear this for me, cowboy.”


	2. “I almost lost you"

“I almost lost you.”

Rick is still breathing hard, his shirt torn from where Negan pulled him out of the fray of walkers that’s now far behind them, disappearing into the dust behind the truck Michonne is driving. His heart feels like it’s about to beat straight out of his chest and burst forth into his lap. It had been a close call, closer that he’d been to dying in a very long time, and it honestly scared the shit out of him.

And by the way Negan’s acting right now, it scared the shit out of him, too. Negan is looking at him intensely, his body turned toward Rick’s from his place in the passenger side seat, hovering over him in a protective manner. Rick can’t quite process his words, his brain still reeling from his close call.

“I…” He breathes heavily, unsure what to say, “Thank you. For getting me out of there.”

Negan’s hands are on him, roaming over his arms and back and sides, “You weren’t…you weren’t bitten, right?” He looks slightly panicked, his hair falling out of its usual slicked-back state and curling untidily over his forehead. Rick is struck by him in this moment; He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Negan look like this before, so  _scared_. It’s an odd look on him.

Negan’s fingers brush against the place where Rick’s shirt is torn as he pushes the ripped material to the side. The feeling of his skin on Rick’s leaves Rick breathless in a different way.

“No, I’m okay. I swear. I’m not bitten.” Negan doesn’t acknowledge that he’s heard Rick, just keeps checking him over until he’s satisfied that there’s not a scratch on him, finally relaxing just a bit. His hands drift up to Rick’s face, thumbs brushing over stubble and cheekbones and tracing the outline of his lips reverently, as if taking Rick in for the first time.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again. You scared the shit out of me, Rick. I thought…Jesus, when I saw how many were on you, I was so fucking sure that was it.” His voice is shaking, echoing the trembling in the hands still stroking Rick’s face, and Rick’s heart breaks a little. He leans in, pressing their foreheads together, keeping his eyes locked with Negan’s.

“I’m fine. I’m just glad you two were there to pull me out.” He runs his fingers through Negan’s short hair, feeling the man relax against him, the tension draining away at Rick’s touch.

“Fuck yeah. We make a good team, don’t we?” Negan grins and Rick pulls back a bit, relieved that Negan’s coming back to himself. It’s unnerving to see him so worried.

“You do.” Rick agrees, settling back into the middle seat. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when he feels Negan press a quick kiss to the side of his head.

“Don’t know what I was so worried about,” He says, shaking his head as if to throw off the fearful tension from a few minutes ago, “It’s gonna take a lot more than a few dead ones to kill Rick Motherfucking Grimes.”


	3. “I’m pregnant”

“I’m pregnant.”

Rick sighed, “Negan…”

“No, really, Rick. Look at me!” Negan whirled around dramatically, the bottom of his shirt rucked up to reveal…the slightest amount of swelling, enhanced greatly by Negan thrusting his hips forward and holding his breath.

“Wow,” Rick deadpanned, “That far along, too. You’re just about ready to pop.”

Negan sighed and collapsed down on the couch, one hand rubbing at his bare stomach that he was  _definitely purposely puffing out_  to make it look bigger. “What are we gonna do, Rick? I’m too old to be up at all hours of the night with a screaming baby, changing diapers and wiping snotty noses. We’ll be fucking crypt keepers by the time the little tyke’s in high school.”

Rick gave a snort of laughter. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay, Negan.”

“And my body will never be the same,” Negan continued, ignoring the unimpressed look Rick was giving him, “Will you still love me when I’ve got swollen ankles and stretch marks, Rick? Will you still want to fuck me all night long when the baby weight just won’t leave?”

Rick rolled his eyes and flopped down next to Negan on the couch. “Yeah, I can guarantee it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Negan asked.

“Because your  _baby_  is made of turkey and the four slices of pumpkin pie you had, Negan.” Rick wormed his way up beside Negan on the couch, hand coming to rest on his husband’s stomach and giving it a poke. Negan groaned and swatted his hand away.

“It was three slices, I’m not a fucking animal. And don’t poke it, I’m pretty sure it’s threatening to come back up.” Negan scooted over a bit to make room for Rick to wriggle up beside him and rest his head in the crook of his shoulder.

Rick slid a hand under Negan’s shirt and played with the coarse hair on his chest. “You do this every year. You eat way too much way too early in the day, and then you spend the rest of the day on the couch whining about it.”

Negan balked, “I do not  _whine_ , Rick.”

“You whine a little.”

A laugh rumbled in Negan’s chest. “I do it because I know you can’t resist cuddling up next to me when I do it. You love to take care of me, and it’s cute as fuck.”

“Oh, so I’m enabling your complaining by doing this? I’d better get up, then,” Rick teased, moving to get off the couch, only to be pulled back down into Negan’s arms.

“Oh, hell no. You’re not going anywhere. I’m  _pregnant_ , Rick. You’re not going to leave your pregnant husband along on the couch, are you?”

“That was the plan, yeah,” Rick answered, though the fact that he was settling back down beside Negan said otherwise.

“Too bad. I’m having cravings. For  _you_.” Negan pulled him in closer, and Rick groaned.

“Do you think about the shit you say, or do you just say it and hope for the best?”

“What?” Negan asked, feigning hurt as he closed his eyes and settled in for a post-meal nap, “Was the joke that bad?”


	4. "Have I entered an alternate universe, or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

Rick was tired. He and Negan had been out since dawn that morning, and it was well past dark now as they were making their way back to Alexandria. He was sweat-soaked and his feet felt like they were made of lead, and when he and Negan finally approached the truck they’d taken out on their supply run, he couldn’t have been more thrilled. He dragged his weary body into the passenger side and leaned back into the seat gratefully as Negan started up the engine.

“So, how was that, Rick?” Negan turned to look at him in expectation, and Rick had to resist the strong urge to tell him to keep his eyes on the damn road.

“What do you want me to say, Negan?” Rick grunted, wishing the man would just allow for some silence for once in his life. The day had been long enough on its own, and with his constant commentary it had been nearly unbearable. Negan had insisted on taking Rick out on a supply run, just the two of them, to “get to know each other”. The only thing Rick had  _gotten to know_  about Negan was that the man didn’t shut up. Ever.

Negan’s eyes turned back toward the road. “How about a little gratitude, Rick? I just spent a day of my life helping you and your little pals out, completely free of charge! I could be doing any number of things, but instead, I’m with you. I’ll have you know I don’t do that shit for just anybody.”

A muscle in Rick’s jaw twitched. “I wouldn’t say it was free of charge,” He snapped back without thinking.

Negan’s eyebrows shot up and he threw another glance Rick’s way. “Really now, Rick? I told you everything we found today was yours, so how is this not me doing free work for you?”

“I feel like I paid the price by spending the whole fucking day with you and your mouth.” Okay, so this time Rick couldn’t claim that he spoke without thinking. He wasn’t really sure why he was looking to piss Negan off. Admittedly, the man had been pretty reasonable today, for who he was. He just also happened to still get under Rick’s skin while being somewhat reasonable.

But Negan didn’t seem pissed. On the contrary, he was laughing. “Goddamn, Rick! You’ve got a nice big pair of balls on you today.”

“They should match your giant fucking mouth.”

Negan let the comment roll off his back, unbothered. “Is it vain to think you use that word more because of me? I mean, I didn’t invent it or anything, but you sure seem to be swearing a lot more after spending a day with me. Am I rubbing off on you?”

“You wish,” Rick grumbled.

Negan’s tongue slid between his teeth. “Oh, I most certainly do wish, Rick. I’d love to rub off on you. Sounds like a great fucking time.”

Rick heard the thinly veiled innuendo there and rolled his eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He mused, “You’ve been flirtin’ with me all day, I bet you’re all worked up.”

Negan actually had to stop the goddamn car and put it in park he was laughing so hard.

“Rick fucking  _Grimes_! Ho-ly shit, I love this side of you! I gotta admit, I like a little fire in people. Keeps ‘em interesting. Keeps ‘em sexy.”

“And here I had you down as wanting someone submissive,” Rick drawled, not sure why he was encouraging this topic of conversation.

“Nah, Rick. I like a little spark. And you just light me right the fuck up,” Negan practically purred as he shot a wink in Rick’s direction.

The line was so cheesy and stupid that it actually pulled a laugh out of Rick, his mouth tugging up at the corners as he chuckled.

Negan grinned like he’d just been told Christmas had come early. “Have I entered an alternate universe, or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

Rick quickly forced the smile from his face with more difficulty that he would care to admit. “Just shut up and keep driving,” he muttered.


	5. "Wanna Dance?"

“Wanna dance?”

Rick eyed Negan’s outstretched hand dubiously. “Er- no, thanks. I’m good right here,” he replied, indicating the table he’d been sitting at for the better part of the night.

Negan pushed out his lower lip in a mockery of a pout that made Rick want to roll his eyes into the back of his skull. “C’mon, Rick! One dance. I promise I won’t make fun of you if you’ve got two left feet. Hell, if you want, you can do that thing where you stand on my shoes and I do all the work.” His hand lingered in front of Rick’s face, and he wiggled his fingers in an invitation to join him.

Rick shook his head, “I mean it, Negan. I  _really_  don’t dance. You don’t want to see me out there, I promise. Go find Beth, I’m sure she’d be thrilled to have a dancing partner. She’s been trying to get Daryl out there all night.”

Negan didn’t waver. “I can dance with her later. Right now, I want to dance with my boyfriend.” When Rick still didn’t take his hand, he changed his approach. “C’mon, Rick. Pretty fucking please? It’s Glenn and Maggie’s wedding, you need to loosen up a bit. Just give me one slow dance with you, and I’ll leave you alone about it.  _And_  I’ll make it up to you later,” He added with a suggestive wink.

Rick sighed in defeat and placed his hand in Negan’s. “Alright. Fine. You win.  _One_  dance. And I’m going to hold you to what you said. You most definitely will be making it up to me later.”

Negan looked positively giddy as he led Rick out onto the dance floor, and Rick could have sworn there was a spring in his step as they joined the other partygoers. “Whatever you want, baby, you got it. Hell, if you wanna fucking drag me off into the bathroom and pretend it’s  _our_  wedding night, I’d be pleased as punch to oblige.”

Rick snickered as he placed one hand on Negan’s shoulder. His breath caught in his throat when Negan pulled him close, their bodies flush against each other as Negan began to lead him into a slow rocking rhythm in time with the music.

It…wasn’t all that bad, actually. It was really kind of nice. Negan, much to Rick’s surprise, seemed to know just what he was doing, his movements and the way he led Rick were fluid and natural. Negan’s arm wound around Rick’s waist, hand resting on the small of his back, and Rick let himself be led, blue eyes locking with Negan’s amber ones moved together.

“See? This isn’t so fucking terrible, is it?” Negan murmured.

“It’s…not bad,” Rick conceded, “You’re better at this than I thought you’d be.”

Negan chuckled into his ear, leaning in close, “I’m full of fucking surprises, Rick,” He purred, swaying back and forth with Rick for a few more blissful seconds before the hand on Rick’s waist dropped down to give his ass a squeeze. Rick jumped like a startled deer, his face flushing pink as he grabbed Negan’s hand and moved it back to a more socially acceptable spot.

“I should have seen that coming,” he muttered, shooting Negan a mutinous look that made the taller man laugh in giddy agreement.

“Probably. But like I said, Rick. I’m full of fucking surprises.”


	6. “I missed you so much”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan gets antsy when Rick goes on a long supply run without him

Negan drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter impatiently, a constant soft tapping sound that seemed to be driving Carl up the wall, if the annoyed look he was throwing Negan was any indication.

“He was supposed to be back by now,” Negan said, for what was probably the fiftieth time, “He was supposed to be fucking back  _this morning_.” He realized that Carl knew this already, realized that him constantly bringing it up and sitting around looking so tense that it wouldn’t be surprising if he snapped right in half is probably immature and borderline irresponsible. He was the adult-  _the parent_ \- right now, even if Carl would never say so out loud. He was supposed to be the one reassuring Carl that Rick was fine and that he and Daryl probably just had to take a pit stop to rest or ran out of gas and had to get more, something mundane and non-life-threatening. But instead, it was Carl that was being the mature one and reassuring him.

“You’ve said that. A hundred times. They’re fine.” Carl rolled his eyes and pushed up out of the chair he’d been sitting in. He’d come downstairs about a half hour ago and noticed Negan sitting at the counter, eyes trained on the front door like a dog waiting for his owner to come home from work. Negan was a little touched that the kid actually stayed downstairs with him for so long. “Seriously, supply runs go long sometimes. They’re probably taking a break for the night anyway. They’ll be back tomorrow. It’s not a big fucking deal.”

If Negan wasn’t so out of his mind with an all-consuming worry that seemed to be pulling at his insides, he would have grinned at Carl’s language. Rick absolutely  _hated_  Carl swearing, so the kid tended, for the most part, to rein it in while Rick was home. He never held back around Negan, though, and it gave Negan a small sense of satisfaction that there was one thing Carl trusted him with. Kind of a dumb thing, sure, but it was a fucking start, right?

Carl was probably right, he knew that deep down. Supply runs weren’t exactly a science, people came back from them early or late all the damn time. But as much as he tried to convince himself, it wouldn’t sink in.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Carl muttered, heading up the stairs, “You should, too,” he added quickly, as if he wanted to get the words and their implication- that he was concerned about Negan- away from him as soon as possible. Negan looked over at Carl and forced a small smile.

“Sure, kid. Goodnight.”

Carl nodded and disappeared up the stairs, leaving Negan alone with his worry again.

Negan knew that Carl was worried, too. He didn’t like to show it, and God knows he probably thought Negan was being a big fucking baby for being so open about it, but he could tell that the kid was nervous, too. How couldn’t he be? Negan internally berated himself for letting his stupid fucking  _emotions_  get the best of him. Rick would be pissed if he knew that Negan was moping around like this, worrying Carl more than he needed to.

Okay, he needed to actually take Carl’s advice and go to bed. He didn’t know how late it was, but he was pretty sure that night had fallen hours ago, and if the drooping of his eyelids was any indication, it was pretty damn late. If he didn’t get up now, he was going to run the risk of falling asleep right here at the kitchen counter, and he’d never hear the fucking end of it if Carl came down in the morning to  _that_.

So he climbed the stairs, checking on a soundly-sleeping Judith in her crib and popping his head into Carl’s room to tell him to get some sleep before he padded into the room he shared with Rick. He stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt, tossing his jacket onto the back of a chair and letting his jeans lay crumpled on the floor. Rick could get onto him about that when he got back.

He crawled into bed, not liking how it felt without Rick beside him. He scooted more toward the middle, trying to take up room. It smelled more like Rick there, And Negan rolled over to Rick’s side and buried his face in his pillow, inhaling deeply and letting the comforting, familiar scent of Rick lull him to sleep.

Quiet footsteps in the hallway startled Negan awake. It was still dark out, and he didn’t feel like he’d been asleep for very long. The footsteps creaked again and Negan was alert in an instant, grabbing Lucille from her resting spot against his bedside table and flinging the covers off, about to bolt out of bed to confront whoever was in his house, when the bedroom door creaked the rest of the way open.

Rick stood in the doorway, looking tired and disheveled, but in one piece.

Negan’s grip loosened on Lucille and he set her back down gently before flinging himself at Rick, scrambling across the room and pulling the man into his arms. He felt Rick’s body relax into the embrace, and he buried his face into the smaller man’s neck.

“I missed you so much,” Negan breathed, pressing kisses to the side of Rick’s head, cupping his face in his hands so he could get a good look at those gorgeous blue eyes he loved so much.

Rick smiled and huffed out an embarrassed-sounding laugh. “I was gone for, what, four days?” He shook his head fondly and pressed his cheek against Negan’s hand, “I thought I was supposed to be the sappy one. I think you’re losing your edge,” he teased.

Negan chuckled. “You’re rubbing off on me.” He stroked Rick’s face with his thumbs, trying to rein in the overwhelming sense of relief he felt to be holding this man in his arms again. He lowered his lips over Rick’s, loving how the other man’s mouth felt against his own, soft and sweet and gentle, a solid pressure anchoring him to reality. “Come to bed,” He murmured the words against Rick’s lips, not wanting to be away from him for a second.

Rick nodded and then laughed when Negan immediately set to work undressing him, impatiently pulling his button-up shirt over his head and undoing the belt that held his gun. “I hope you meant come to bed in a literal sense, because I’m way too damn tired to do anything but sleep,” he said as Negan tugged his jeans down his narrow hips.

“I just want you next to me,” Negan whispered into his ear, hand resting against Rick’s waist. He had trouble keeping his hands off of Rick on normal days, and tonight, after all the needless worry that Rick wasn’t coming home…he craved the contact. He needed it, that steady pressure of skin against skin to remind him that Rick was alive and well and in his arms and not going anywhere. He tugged Rick toward the bed and Rick followed, shuffling under the covers with him and nuzzling in closer when Negan pulled him into his chest.

“Carl said you were worried about me.”

Negan cursed internally. Goddammit, Carl. Way to fucking sell him out.

“He was still awake?” Negan asked, trying to dodge the question.

Rick shook his head, “No, I woke him up. Accidentally. He’s a light sleeper.”

Who wasn’t these days?

“You’re ignoring what I said, though,” Negan could hear Rick’s smug little grin in his voice, “You were worried about me?”

Negan buried his face into Rick’s hair, not minding the unwashed smell. It was all Rick, after all. “Yeah, well. You said you’d be home this morning.”

“You know supply runs can go a bit long. Daryl and I ended up coming across another place that had some meds.” He pulled his face out of Negan’s chest so he could look him in the eye. “I’m sorry you were worried.”

Negan’s eyes darted away from his, feeling flustered. “It’s not a big fucking deal, Rick. I can hold down the damn for a few days without going all worried-housewife and pining away for you like you’re off at war or some shit.”

Rick smiled, warm and sweet and Negan wanted to capture that image and never let it go. Rick’s smile had to be one of his favorite things to look at in the whole damn world. Rick rolled over and pulled Negan with him, lacing their fingers together in front of himself while Negan scooted in close to spoon him. Negan rested his forehead against Rick’s bare shoulder, letting his eyelids close. Rick’s voice rumbled from beside him, tired but happy.

“I missed you too, by the way.”


	7. “Because I love you!”

“What the fuck is your problem, Negan?”

Annoyance colored Rick’s voice as he stared down at the other man. Negan was on the ground, chest heaving, his usually slicked-back hair an untidy mess. The bodies of the walkers he’d thrown himself at lay scattered around him in dismembered heaps. He looked extremely unperturbed for a man who had nearly just gotten his throat bitten out. In fact, he looked downright confused at Rick’s outburst.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘what the fuck is my problem’, Rick?” He asked, standing up and shoving one of the dead ones aside as he did. “I just saved your damn life! If it wasn’t for me, you’d be walker food right now!”

Rick ran both hands through his hair, mussing it further than it already was. Negan was right, unfortunately. He’d gotten overwhelmed by the herd and hadn’t seen the way out, and if Negan hadn’t come in, guns blazing, he would probably be one of the bloody smears that they were standing in right now.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed at Negan for risking himself like that.

Negan caught Rick’s hands in his own and pulled them down and out of his hair. “You scared the shit out of me, Rick,” he murmured, “One second you were beside me, the next I see you disappearing behind a wall of undead fucks. I thought-” he took a shuddering breath and squeezed Rick’s hands. “Fuck, Rick. Don’t do that to me.”

Rick could have laughed if he wasn’t so shaken. “Don’t do that to  _you_? Are you fucking kidding me?” He cried, “They were all over you, I thought you were going to get torn apart right in front of me” He trailed off, shaking his head. He felt Negan’s fingers under his chin, tilting his face up toward his.

“Hey, I’m still fucking here. I’m one tough bastard.”

Rick wrenched his hands out of Negan’s grip. “That doesn’t mean anything, Negan! They can still kill you! I don’t want to fucking see you get torn apart trying to save me!” He was getting worked up again, but he didn’t care. Negan had almost died, and he was acting like it was nothing, and he  _hated_  that, because Negan dying was anything but nothing to Rick.

Negan put his hands up in front of him, trying to calm Rick down. “Rick, c’mon. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re both okay. Why the fuck are you losing your shit over this?”

“Because I love you!” Rick yelled, the words ringing out loudly and hanging in the air between them.

Negan blinked, his eyes wide with surprise. “You- you  _love_  me?”

Rick felt like he couldn’t breathe quite right. He’d been hanging onto those words for weeks now, and he hadn’t exactly planned on them being yelled angrily at a very perplexed-looking Negan while surrounded by a pile of dead walkers that ad nearly killed them both. But there it was, out in the open. It wasn’t anything like how he’d imagined, but Negan was never someone he would have imagine himself falling in love with.

“Rick?” Negan’s eyes were still wide, his expression unreadable.

Rick sighed. “Yes, I love you. I, uh. I didn’t really mean for it to come out like that.” He looked at Negan sheepishly.

Negan’s face split into the widest grin Rick had ever seen, and the lunged forward to pull Rick into a bruising kiss, hands grasping the back of his neck. When Negan pulled back, Rick looked up at him, expression guarded. “So, uh. Do you…?” He felt stupid asking a question like that. Worrying about the answer to questions like that seemed almost trivial in its lightheartedness given what they’d been through, but it seemed anything but to Rick.

Negan pressed another kiss to Rick’s lips, gentler this time, and Rick was struck for what felt like the millionth time by the softer side that Negan had shown to him.

“Of course I love you, Rick. I’d be fucking stupid not to.”


	8. “I’m better when I’m with you”

Rick threw his head back and laughed, full-body laughed, at the photos spread in front of him.

“Oh, fuck you, Rick. Like anyone was at their best in high school.” Negan glared at him, but it was halfhearted, and Rick could tell he got a kick out of seeing his reaction to the pictures.

They were finally clearing out Negan’s apartment, sorting his belongings into “keep” and “toss” piles that would then be packed into boxes or stuffed into garbage bags. It was a long time coming, if Rick was being honest. Negan had basically been living with him for the last several months. Why they’d both been so hesitant to just come out and say it was beyond him, but it was finally out in the open between them, and Rick couldn’t be happier.

Rick had come across an old photo album buried underneath piles of clothes and assorted junk in the bottom of Negan’s closet, and the two of them were now leafing through it and laughing on Negan’s bedroom floor amidst half-packed cardboard boxes and sheets of bubble wrap. Negan was a surprisingly good sport about Rick’s teasing, laughing along with him as he poked fun at what looked to be Negan’s punk days, complete with long hair and honest-to-God eyeliner. He was still sporting a leather jacket. Some things never changed. Rick flipped the page and his eyes widened at the next set of photos.

“You- you were in a  _band_?” He asked incredulously, looking up at Negan with delight. Negan groaned and grinned and scrubbed a hand over his beard.

“Yeah, and I’ll have you know we were the  _shit_. I got all kinds of laid fronting a band, Rick. Chicks dig a singer. So do dudes, actually,” Negan added with a devilish smirk.

“Oh, so you were the singer?” Rick looked unimpressed, “I’m pretty sure your band was just shit, then. Not  _the_  shit.”

Negan reeled back, clutching his chest in a feigned attempt at shock. “Rick, you wound me! I had the voice of a goddamn angel.”

I’ve heard you ‘singing’-” Rick put air quotes around the word, “Along to  _Hot For Teacher_ about a hundred times in the car. There ain’t nothing angelic about your voice.”

Negan laughed and flipped Rick off, returning to the photos. “Fair enough, babe.”

“What were you like back then?” Rick wondered aloud.

Negan leaned into him and kept flipping pages. “I was cool as shit, obviously. Just look at this badass pair of purple pleather paints I’m wearing. That’s the height of fucking style right there.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “What were you actually like, though?”

“What do  _you_  think I was like?”

Rick pondered this for a moment. “You were an asshole.”

Negan huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s fair. I was a huge asshole, actually. I was for a long time.”

Rick had his own guesses as to why Negan was such an asshole, as the man had actually opened up to Rick about his home life growing up. But he didn’t really want to bring all that up right now. Instead, he just said, “Yeah, I know. You were a real dick when I met you.”

He looked up at Negan and saw him smiling down at him. “Just when you met me? What, I’m not a dick anymore?”

Rick pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Not as much, no. Wonder why that is,” he mused.

Rick felt Negan’s hand running down his back, rubbing circles over his shoulder blades. “I know why,” He murmured, the hand snaking around Rick’s waist and pulling him into his lap. They were face to face, Rick’s light blue eyes meeting Negan’s hazel ones.

“Oh yeah?” Rick asked, fingers tangling in Negan’s short hair. Negan nodded.

“I’m better when I’m with you.”


	9. "Please don't leave me"

“Please don’t leave me.”

Rick swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, trying desperately to keep himself together and failing miserably. He refused to meet Negan’s eyes, afraid that anything that he saw there would make his resolve crumble into pieces. And he couldn’t have that. This was what needed to be done. It should have been done a long time ago, he realized that now, but Rick had been foolishly, naïvely optimistic.

It was never going to work out. He knew that from the beginning. And he went and fell for Negan anyway. Like an idiot.

Rick shook his head and reached for the doorknob, only for Negan to throw himself against it, shoulder to the door and his body angled toward Rick. “Please,” he pleaded, “Just fucking look at me, Rick. I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m so fucking sorry! You don’t have to do this. Please.” Rick could hear the wavering in his voice and he tried not to think about how he’d never seen Negan cry before now. He’d gotten close the first time he’d told Rick about Lucille, but Rick could tell that if he looked up he’d be seeing a side of Negan that he’d never seen before.

He didn’t want to see it. Not now, not ever. Rick tugged at the doorknob. It didn’t budge. “Can you move?  _Please_.” Negan didn’t move, and Rick found himself wanting to shove Negan out of the way. But the thought of touching him was too much. He couldn’t. His hand stayed frozen on the doorknob. “You’re making this harder than it has to be, Negan,” Rick’s voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. He caught sight of Negan reaching out for him and jerked away from the touch.

“Please, Rick. Just fucking look at me.” Negan sounded broken and Rick felt broken and the last thing he wanted was to feel pity for this man. But he did. So he looked up.

Negan’s face was flushed, his hazel eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. Tears trickled down the sides of his face, disappearing into the salt-and-pepper beard that Rick loved running his fingers through so much.

Fuck. He knew that seeing him like this would make it harder.

It didn’t change anything, though.

“Please, Negan,” Rick whispered, “Just move.” He was tired. He was so fucking tired of all of it, and he just needed to go. The atmosphere in the apartment felt unbearably tense and oppressive and he was sure that if he stayed here another minute he’d just give right the fuck in and let Negan have his way. And he couldn’t go down that road again. He probably should have anticipated Negan being difficult about it, since he was difficult about virtually  _everything_ , but there was still that little part of Rick that had never gone away, that nagging voice of doubt in the back of his mind telling him that Negan wasn’t as invested as he was.

As it turns out, that voice had been wrong.

It still didn’t change anything.

“Rick, I-”Negan started up again, and Rick snapped.

“No! No, you know what, you’re going to fucking  _move_. I’m done asking nicely, this is fucking ridiculous. You’re going to move out of my way, and I’m going to go out that door, and that’s going to be it, Negan. You fucked up. You fucked up a lot, but this was  _finally_ the last fucking straw. I can’t believe I put up with your shit for as long as I did, but I’m done. So move.”

Negan reeled back like Rick had slapped him. His face crumpled and he stepped out of Rick’s way. He looked like he would have preferred the hit.

Rick wrenched the door open and all but bolted from the apartment. He didn’t hear the door close behind him, just shaky sobs echoing down the hallway as he walked away.


	10. "Stay with me forever"

Negan nuzzles his face against Rick’s bare chest and lets his eyes flutter closed. He can hear the steady beating of Rick’s heart against his ribs, feel the comforting rise and fall of Rick’s chest as he breathes. He lets his fingers dance lightly across Rick’s torso, tracing a slow line down the center of his chest to the waistband of his boxers. Rick lets out a small, pleased sigh above him, and Negan smiles against his skin.

And then, because Negan’s a little shit, he runs his fingers over the ticklish spot on the left side of Rick’s ribcage and Rick is squirming against him and trying to grab his wrists. “Negan, please, it was so nice, and then you have to go and-”

“Go and be obnoxious, yeah!” Negan grins, but relents and lets Rick still his hands and lace their fingers together. Their intertwined hands rest against Rick’s collarbone, and Negan’s thumb flicks out to stroke it.

He loves summer mornings like this, when Rick is off work and he can just linger in bed with Negan for a while before Carl and Judith wake up. Sunlight is streaming in from the window parallel to the bed, painting Rick’s skin with warm lines of yellow. Negan wants to curl up on his chest like a cat and just  _purr_  with how content he is.

Rick’s other arm is looped loosely around Negan’s shoulders, his fingers running through Negan’s hair, which is an untidy wreck from the night before. Rick pulls him in a little closer and Negan feels the press of lips against the top of his head and he’s momentarily overcome by how goddamn  _loved_  he feels in this moment. He never would have dared to hope for this kind of life again, one with a family and a home and someone who loves him curled up with him on a lazy weekend morning. He wonders if he’ll ever stop being grateful to Rick for giving him all of this.

He doubts it.

“See, isn’t this nice?” Rick asks, “No need to ruin it with tickling.”

Negan’s lips brush Rick’s skin, “You’re pretty goddamn cute when you’re squirming away from me,” He argues, “But you’re right. This is better.”

Rick hums happily and tugs lightly at Negan’s hair, urging him up, and Negan obliges, shifting on the bed so that he’s hovering over Rick. And then their lips meet in a kiss that’s all warmth and tenderness, mouths moving against each other at a languid pace, taking their time, drinking each other in.

“Stay with me forever.”

Rick’s words fall breathy and sweet from his lips, and Negan thinks that, yeah, he can do that. He can do forever, if it’s with Rick.


	11. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen”

Negan’s a motherfucking sentimental guy, dammit. He’s not sure why that always comes as such a shock to people.

Alright, so maybe he understands it a little. It probably has something to do with how he presents himself, or some shit like that.

Or the baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire slung over his shoulder.

Or the fact that he’s been known to kill people for defying him. Or getting in his way. Or just to put them in their place.

Okay, so there’s a lot of reasons people would be surprised. And, he’ll admit it, it’s been a long time since he’s shown a truly sentimental side of himself to another person. He shows a tender side sometimes, with his wives. But because of the nature of his relationship with them, he doesn’t get sentimental. He knows they’re there because of what he can give them. And he’s happy with that, really. They get what they want, he gets what he wants, everyone’s happy. He hasn’t sought out an emotional connection with another person for a long time. He’s seen too many people die, get eaten alive or wasted by other people, and it just seemed easier to give all that shit up.

And then Rick Grimes had to come in and fuck that shit right up to the ceiling.

Even if he thinks long and hard about it- which he has, several times- he still isn’t completely sure how he and Rick  _happened_. He has some guesses- a strange mutual attraction, a common loss of their wives, an unexpected level of begrudging respect for the other’s ability to keep people safe and alive. But none of that explains the inexplicable truth that Negan’s stumbled upon:

He actually really fucking likes Rick. He  _cares_  about Rick.

He never could have expected it, but there it is anyway. And, yeah, he may get a little sentimental about Rick sometimes. Like right now, when he’s laying sprawled beside him, basking in the afterglow of what was some pretty goddamn mind-blowing sex. Negan pushes himself up on one elbow to stare at Rick because,  _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Rick’s one gorgeous man.

Negan admires the long, lean lines of Rick’s body. The only light is coming in from the window, so he’s all stark whites and dark shadows right now, with just the faintest hint of pink tinging his face and chest. He looks like a painting, all chiaroscuro and angelic features. Negan wants nothing more than to run his hands over him, feel the silk of his skin and the tightness of muscle under his fingertips.

His cheeks are still flushed from their earlier activities, his lips even more pink and full than they normally are, making him look absolutely fuck-me kissable. His hair is a goddamn wreck from Negan tugging at it and running his hands through it. Loose strands are plastered to his forehead, and Negan can’t decide if he wants to reach up and brush them out of his face or leave them there.

Then Rick shifts slightly to look up at Negan, and the light from the window crosses over his eyes, and  _holy hot damn_ , are his eyes blue right now. They look like the water in the pictures of tropical beaches that Negan has only ever seen in pictures, and he finds himself thinking that doesn’t mind that he’s never set foot on such a beach as long as he gets to see that color in Rick’s eyes.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Negan breathes, more than a little awestruck. The words tumble out of his mouth without his permission, and Rick looks up at him with, of course, an expression of surprise. And then his face flushes a little deeper, and in lieu of replying, he responds by wrapping his hand around the nape of Negan’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss that’s wet and open and leaves Negan’s mind reeling and hoping for a round two.


	12. "Don't look at me like that"

“Don’t look at me like that.” Negan pleaded, his face crumpling like tissue paper.

Rick already knew what he meant, but he asked anyway.

“Like what, Negan? Don’t look at you like  _what?_ ” It was aggressive, meant to provoke. And maybe it was cruel, making him say it out loud. But there was something in Rick that wanted to be a little cruel right now. He deserved it, the chance to lash out. God knows it had been a long time coming.

When Negan finally spoke, he sounded so  _lost_ , the voice of a man unable to get his bearings, adrift at sea without a map. “Like you don’t fucking know who I am anymore. You  _know_  me, Rick. Please, baby-”

“Don’t,” Rick snapped, throwing a hand up to stop Negan, like the pet name was a physical blow that he had to deflect. “Don’t do that. Don’t say that shit to me like I’m the unreasonable one here.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal.” Negan tried, and Rick actually laughed at that, because  _what the fuck did he think was going to happen?_

“You killed them.”

“I did what I fucking had to do, Rick! You  _know_  it’s what needed to be done!”

Rick saw red, and the next thing he knew he was lunging forward, grabbing Negan by the front of his once-white t-shirt and slamming him against the wall hard enough for the taller man’s head to crack painfully against it. Negan grunted at the impact, eyes wide like he hadn’t seen this coming. And, hell, maybe he hadn’t, Rick thought. Maybe he was just dense enough to think that Rick wouldn’t be pissed about this.

Rick was a good four or so inches shorter than Negan, but in this moment he felt like the man’s usual towering demeanor was withering underneath the force of Rick’s rage, a plant deprived of sunlight, all limp leaves and sagging stems.

“No,” Rick seethed through clenched teeth, digging his fingers in, wanting Negan to hurt. The blood on Negan’s shirt was long since dry, and Rick could feel the crusted, dry texture of it under his hands. “No, I don’t fucking  _know that’s what needed to be done_ , Negan. Because it wasn’t. We could have handled this,  _together_ , talked it out like  _civilized people_.” He’s shaking subtly now, and even he isn’t entirely sure if it’s out of anger or fear or the horrible, nauseating realization that he’s been kidding himself with this whole thing for the past couple years. “That’s what it was supposed to be now. That’s what we said. You and me, making a better world. That’s what  _you fucking said, Negan!_  You promised me, swore to me that you were trying to change, and then you do  _this_ -”

“I tried to tell you, Rick! I did, you wouldn’t fucking listen to me- these people needed to be handled like this-”

“No! No, you don’t get to fucking plead your case here, Negan. I meant it when I said we weren’t going to kill people anymore. We’re trying to rebuild society, that’s what you agreed to. That’s why you’re still fucking  _alive_.”

Negan’s eyes went hard at that, his face turning to stone. “Really, Rick?  _That’s_  why I’m still fucking alive?” He laughed in Rick’s face, a cruel, mocking sound that made Rick’s stomach turn. He hadn’t sounded like that in…in so, so long. A flicker of the man he used to be, before his imprisonment, before the truce, before  _them_ , showed on his face, and it made ice creep into Rick’s veins. “I don’t think that’s it,  _baby_.” The pet name wasn’t a plea this time. It was a shove to the chest, a finishing blow. “I think the reason I’m still alive is because you like my dick shoved up your tight little ass. I think you kept me alive because it made you feel good about yourself. Righteous Rick Grimes, sparing the prisoner of war,  _what a good, honorable man_ ,” Negan spat, disgusted. “I’m alive so you can pretend you’re still a decent fucking person after all the shit you’ve pulled, and I’m alive because you like me putting you on your back and giving it to you  _so fucking hard_  that you can’t walk straight.”

Rick could feel his face burning, but he didn’t loosen his grip, his pale eyes scorching into Negan’s dark ones, trying to hold back the fury bubbling under his skin, behind his ribs, a hot ache in his chest. Negan held his gaze for a moment, but Rick could see it written all over his face underneath the surface of mocking and vulgarity: the hurt, the fear, the please-don’t-do-this-to-us. It made Rick want to let go, to slump forward against him and bury his face in the broad chest like he’d done so many times, to take it all back and make promises that they could work all of this out.

But they’d be empty promises, and he knew that. So he grabbed the collar of Negan’s shirt and shoved him away, toward the front door. His eyes were on the floor as he spoke, unable and unwilling to look at the despair in Negan’s any longer.

“Get out. Get the hell out of my house.”


	13. "Don’t you dare shut me out!"

“How was work?” Negan asks, a soft purr in Rick’s ear as he winds his arms around the smaller man’s waist. He feels the tension Rick’s holding in his body as he does so. He’s coiled tight, shoulders locked against him, and it gives Negan pause, makes his face fall even as he pulls Rick in tighter. “Baby?”

“It was fine.” Rick grits out after a moment, and it’s laughable how not-fine he sounds. Or rather, it  _would_  be laughable if it wasn’t freaking Negan out so damn much. Rick’s fingers fidget with the collar of his uniform, not undoing the buttons, just anxiously fiddling, and it sets Negan’s teeth on edge.

“Rick. What’s wrong?” His voice is a little more firm this time, insistent. He doesn’t like secrets between them. He knows that Rick doesn’t either, knows that Rick’s been making a conscious effort to work on open communication between them since it had been such a problem in his marriage to Lori.

But still, here he is, lying through his teeth as he says, “Nothing, Negan. I’m alright. Long day is all.”

That’s not all, not by a long shot, and Negan can tell by the tone of his voice and the subtle tremor in his fingers and the way Rick doesn’t melt back against him like he always does when Negan holds him like this.

“Rick. Come on now, I’m not fucking stupid. You think I can’t tell when something’s wrong?”

Rick wrenches out of his arms, not looking at him, and Negan can’t even try to hide the hurt that skitters across his face. “Leave it, Negan.” Rick snaps, and Negan recoils like the harshly spoken words are a slap to the face. Rick disappears up the stairs, too fast, and Negan stands alone in the kitchen for a second, a spike of fear pulsing through him before he follows.

Rick is sitting on their bed, staring blankly at the floor when Negan opens the door. He doesn’t look up, just growls, “Get out”. Negan doesn’t listen, instead swinging the door closed behind him so the kids don’t hear.

“What the fuck is going on with you, Rick?” He asks as he makes his way over to the other man. Rick stands, moves to leave, and Negan reaches out, catching him by the wrist.

“I said leave it, Negan. I mean it.” Rick warns.

“No. You’re gonna tell me what the fuck is going on-”

“Nothing’s going on!” Rick shouts, jerking his wrist away. He tries for the door again, and Negan blocks him.

“No. Don’t you dare shut me out!” He yells. He hates yelling at Rick, hates fighting with him, but he can’t deny that he’s scared right now. And when he gets scared, he gets angry. He bites his lip and reaches out, cupping Rick’s face in his hands and tilting his head up so he’s forced to look Negan in the eye. All the anger drains out of Negan when he does so, because there’s something there, swimming in the depths of blue; something panicked and trying desperately to hide. “Baby, please,” Negan whispers, “Please just tell me.” He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, a gesture meant to soothe, to show affection. Rick is shaking against him. He’s silent for a long stretch of time, and Negan waits, forces himself to be patient, doesn’t push anymore. Rick will come to him.

And he does, with a frightened murmur in the tense air between them. “I was shot today. On the job.”

Negan sucks in a horrified breath, pulls back and starts running his hands over Rick’s body, checking him for injury even though he’s obviously well enough to be standing here at home and not in the hospital. “I’m fine, Negan. I am. The vest stopped it, it’s just some bruises.” There’s a plea there in his voice, a need for understanding.

Negan’s already undoing his shirt, his hands shaking violently. He has to make a conscious effort to not just rip the fabric apart in his desperation. Rick’s bulletproof vest is underneath, and- there it is, on his left side, right over his ribs: a small hole in the thick black material.

Rick helps him get it off until he’s stripped from the waist up and standing in front of Negan. “Just some bruises” turns out to be a dark smattering of color blooming over Rick’s ribs, coloring the pale skin there purple and blue and green. Negan’s breathing is shaky as his fingers hover over them, scared his touch and cause more pain.

“I’m okay. I promise I’m okay.” Rick whispers, one hand on Negan’s face. His thumbs are swiping at Negan’s cheeks because- oh, he’s crying. “I didn’t want you to worry. I don’t want you to worry about me every time I leave, and I know you, I know you will-”

“Of course I will.” Negan interrupts, and it comes out as nearly a whimper. “Of course I’ll fucking worry about you. You could have fucking  _died_ , Rick, I don’t even know what the fuck I would do if you-” His lower lip trembles and he can’t bear to finish the thought. Rick slides a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close. He buries his face in the crook of Rick’s neck, inhaling his scent, musky and a little sweaty with the barest hint of the cologne that Negan bought him for Christmas. He smells like home, like comfort, and Negan can’t stand the thought of breathing air that isn’t mingled with that scent.

“I don’t want you to worry.” Rick repeats.

“I’d rather know.” Negan shakes out. “I’d rather fucking know. You can’t fucking keep shit like that from me and expect everything to be okay, that’s not how any of this fucking  _works_ -”

“Okay.” Rick says, nodding and soothing as he strokes Negan’s hair. “Okay.”

“Promise me, Rick.”

Rick pulls him back then, looks him straight in the eye. His face is open and scared and sincere. “I promise.”


	14. "I never meant to fall in love with you"

“I never meant to fall in love with you.”

Negan is unbothered by the statement when Rick says it, all angry Grimes Glare and narrowed eyes. Of course Rick never meant to fall in love with him. Why the hell would he? He’s hardly anyone’s first choice, especially these days, and God knows Rick’s got a whole laundry list of reasons to not mean to fall in love with Negan. So, no, that one doesn’t bother him. He lets it roll off his back, throwing an arm over Rick’s shoulders and grinning down at him.

“But, hey, at least you fucking love me, right?” He says good-naturedly, because, really, that’s all that’s important. No matter what Rick says, no matter if Rick  _meant_  to do it or not, they’re in love.

He tells himself the same thing the next time Rick says something like that. They’re strolling through Alexandria, and Negan’s trying to get Rick to hold his hand  _because that’s what couples do, Rick_ , and Rick says it, not looking at him, so casually.

“Maybe normal couples, Negan. Not us.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the way Negan’s steps stutter for a moment, like the words tripped him up physically as well as mentally. But he grits his teeth, takes another couple strides to catch up to Rick, who kept walking when he stopped. He mentally chides himself, because  _of course we’re not a normal couple. Yeah. I don’t want that, anyway. What we have is fine._

_–_

It takes Negan an embarrassingly long time to figure out that Rick doesn’t like public displays of affection. Rick never tells him outright, and he’s normally such an affectionate guy- with his kids, with his friends, with everyone- that Negan doesn’t even think about it being a problem. He doesn’t pay much thought to the dodged kisses and the way he shoves Negan away when people start looking.

And then he notices, all at once, when he goes in for a kiss while they’re sitting on a bench together by the small retention pond in the middle of Alexandria. Rick’s ignoring him, busy scribbling numbers and drawing up messy plans for a garden at the Sanctuary when Negan reaches for him, tilts his face up so their lips can meet. Rick bats his hand away, frowning.

“Cut that shit out, Negan.”

Negan pouts, teases, “What, scared the fuckin’ neighbors will see?”

“Yes” Rick snaps at him, and Negan laughs it off, as usual.

“Aw, c’mon, Rick. Not like people don’t already know we’re fucking. You ashamed of me or something, baby?” He sneers.

The snippy “yes” he gets in response cuts straight to the quick, because it sure as hell sounds like Rick means it. He stares at Rick for a second, waiting for the punchline. For the other man to roll his eyes and tell him to stop being so stupid, to pull him in for a quick kiss, to shoot him a wry grin that will let Negan know that he’s joking.

None of that comes. Rick is still focused on the garden plans, doesn’t spare him a glance. Negan drops his eyes after a moment, folds his hands in his lap and stares like he’s not sure what to do with them.

**–-**

There’s a question burning in Negan’s mind, but he’s too scared to ask it. He remembers back when he was a gym coach, how the kids would always ask, “Coach, are we running laps today?” with that whining note of reluctance in their voices. He’d always made them run laps the beginning of class, but they’d ask anyway, naively hoping that maybe his answer would be different this time. And after a month or so of that back-and-forth, he’d told them, “Look, kid, don’t ask questions you know you’re not gonna like the answers to.”

Negan doesn’t like the idea that this is one of those questions. But deep down, he knows it is. Knows it’s foolish to torture himself over it like this, knows that he’ll regret it the second the question leaves his lips.

He asks it anyway, one night when he and Rick are tangled together, naked and sweaty and slick beneath the sheets of their shared bed.

“Do you regret it?” Negan asks, and he can hear how small his voice sounds. He hates that Rick’s able to do that to him, reduce him to something tiny and wanting, but there it is.

Rick chuckles, reaches over to turn the lamp off so that the only light in the room comes from the moonlight pouring in through the window. “Nah, you were pretty good tonight.” He kisses Negan’s shoulder and curls up on his side, and Negan skootches over, pulls him close. He talks into the warm skin of Rick’s back.

“Not tonight. I mean…I mean all of it. Do you regret it? Us?”

Rick sighs. “Negan, c’mon.”

“No, Rick, I’m fucking serious. I want to know. Do you?” He doesn’t want to know, but he needs it. It won’t make him leave if Rick says yes, but…he just needs to hear it. One way or the other.

“Don’t do this, Negan. Just go to sleep.”

“Rick, please.”

“I don’t regret it enough to stop fucking you, do I?” Rick sighs and squirms against him. He gets restless when he’s put on the spot like this. “You know I love you. Don’t fucking know why, but I do. Can’t that be enough?”

Negan swallows and swallows around the lump in his throat because  _he’s not going to cry, he’s fucking not, not over Rick Grimes._ So he forces himself to breathe normally and tries to ignore how much it really fucking hurts that Rick can’t say  _no, I don’t regret you, Negan_. How much it hurts to hear him say that he doesn’t know why he loves him.

_Don’t ask questions you know you’re not gonna like the answers to._

“Sure, Rick,” He says thickly. “That’s enough.”


	15. "You know damn well why things are they way they are"

It always started off so quietly. It was never days when things were busy, never when they had to be somewhere or when the kids were home. Rick supposed that he appreciated that, in a way. Negan may be an asshole, but at least he was an asshole that kept the kids out of it. Rick would love to say “their kids”, the way he used to. He’d stopped doing that to himself a few months back, though. Around the time he realized that nothing was going to be “theirs” for very long.

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it coming. Looking back, he could see the red flags from miles away, waving a warning crimson right in front of his face as he careened headlong down the path to destruction.

Hell, he probably should have guessed it from how he always thought of Negan and their relationship as something destructive: a collision, a crash, a hurricane. That’s what they were; a devastating force, something messy and wrecked and wrong. And Rick had fallen for him anyway. Married him anyway. Had his heart broken by him anyway. And Rick probably broke his heart, too, just for good measure. 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t had good times. Some of the best times, really, and certainly the best Rick had since Lori died. He liked to think that Negan felt the same way, but he just didn’t know anymore. And all the good times in the world couldn’t fix them now, he knew. Looking back on all that happiness just ached now, every memory tarnished by the new ones featuring cruel words and broken trust.

To be fair, had had been warned up front. Negan had always been honest with him. Told him, “I’m a piece of shit”, “I’m an asshole”, “I cheated on Lucille even though she was the love of my life”.

Rick just thought…he’d just thought that maybe Negan had changed. He’d seemed to regret it all. 

No. No, Rick  _knew_  he regretted it all. Negan was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. Hell, when it happened the first time, he’d told Rick right away. There had been shame all over his miserable face, but he’d kept his head up, not allowing himself to wallow in self-pity, letting Rick look him in the eye as he broke his heart. He gave him that much, at least.

It was the small things, Rick supposed. Honor amongst thieves. Amongst cheaters.

He didn’t know why he’d let Negan stay after that. Maybe because he felt complicit in some way. He’d never blame himself, never let Negan off the hook like that, but he knew why it had happened. Negan wasn’t the only one repeating the same old mistakes from his first marriage. 

Rick was close-lipped, never talking things out, never opening up. He filed his trauma and anxiety and fear away into neat little folders, stowed them away in a locked box, kept the key hidden where Negan couldn’t get to it, if there was ever a key at all. He didn’t bring work home with him, he insisted. He didn’t want to talk about this now, he insisted. Just let it go, Negan, he insisted.

Negan was always the one to get mad, get frustrated, yell. He was smart enough to wait until the kids were gone, but he would yell. Beg, cajole, cry, even, asking for Rick to please, please just talk to him.

And Rick would stay calm, always calm. Lori had hated that, how he’d never get mad. More proof that he couldn’t open up, his emotions just one more thing he wouldn’t let her be privy to. And now Negan hated it, too.

“Just let me the fuck in, Rick!” He yelled. It was one of those days where the quiet had turned violent, twisting and mutating from comfortable to suffocating, a heavy fog surrounding them. They’d been okay, Rick lamented. Maybe, he thought, if Negan could just leave it the fuck alone, if he could just let everything be, they could ignore it. Rick could overlook the men and women Negan was bedding, Negan could get over not knowing every damn thing that popped into Rick’s head, and they could just live like this.

It would be so much easier if they could just pretend. File their transgressions against each other away, compartmentalize it all. Because, at the end of the day, Negan was still coming home to Rick. Through it all, Rick knew they still loved each other. Foolishly, naively, he wished that could be enough to keep the inevitable at bay.

But life didn’t work like that, and Negan kept bringing it up.

“It doesn’t have to fucking be like this, Rick.  _Please_. I fucking miss you.”

“I’m right here, Negan.” Rick said.

“I don’t understand. I don’t fucking understand, Rick. How the hell did we end up like this?”

Rick’s eyes cut into him. “You know damn well why things are the way they are.”

Normally, that would have made Negan deflate. Salt in the wound he’d inflicted on himself, Rick just heaping on the guilt he already felt. Today, he lashed out, a wounded animal backed into a corner.

“Yeah, I supposed I fucking do know, don’t I?” He hissed between his teeth. “And you do too, Rick. I know you do. I’ll take my goddamn share of the blame, but don’t you fucking dare put this all on me.”

Rick wouldn’t dream of it. Negan may have dug their grave, but Rick knew he was the one hammering the nails into the coffin.


	16. The Truth- Chapter 12 Negan's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate scene from The Truth chapter 12 where Rick and Negan are talking in bed

Rick quirked an eyebrow at Negan. “You want to try to have a civil conversation with me?”

Negan chuckled, amused. Rick always acted so damn shocked when he was anything less than a jackass. Maybe that was fair, though. Yeah, that was definitely fair. “Don’t sound so fucking surprised, Rick.” He dropped the air of nonchalance and looked Rick in the eye. “I’m being serious right now, though. You said something earlier, and I want to know if you actually meant it or if you were just putting on a show. Are you really not scared of me anymore?”

Rick furrowed his brow, seeming to gauge that he was serious. “No, not really. Being here…if nothing else, it’s shown me that you’re capable of being reasonable. Sometimes.”

Negan had to resist the urge to grin. This was honestly…unexpected. Especially after today, with Mark. And the other day, with that prick, David. He found it hard to believe that none of that was bothering Rick. “I scarred a man for life because he was fooling around with one of my wives. I fucking smashed a guy’s head into mystery meat right in front of you just a few days ago. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m glad you can see all that and not think I’m a fucking lunatic, but given how much you claim to hate my fucking guts, I can’t help but wonder why.” Negan tilted his head, searching Rick’s face for answers. Negan had never been much of one for reading people, if he was honest. Picking up on subtleties had never been his strong suit, which is probably why he felt the need to be so open and vocal about everything he did and thought. He figured it was an okay trade-off. He came across as a dick a lot of the time, sure, but he wasn’t a  _lying_  dick.

But Rick…Rick was a whole new level of cryptic and confusing. It seemed the more time Negan spent with him, the less he understood what was going on in his head. It had been easy enough at first, when all Rick felt for him was contempt and blinding hatred, but now…after Rick had softened to him a bit, Negan couldn’t begin to guess how the other man felt about anything.

Rick sighed. “I…look. I don’t agree with what you did today. Especially seeing as you have multiple wives and you’ve said yourself that what you and them have is basically just an exchange of services. I’d understand it more if you were actually in love with them, but I really don’t think you are.”

Negan shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. He cared about them, sure, but he and the women he married had an understanding, a separation that was purposely in place. He wasn’t in the business of getting attached, which he had his reasons for. Reasons that Rick had all but guessed after Negan’s half-drunk confession about Lucille. “Fair.”

Rick continued. “So I’m not gonna act like I’m alright with you going around burning people’s faces to enforce rules is something that sits well with me, but I can see your reasoning behind it. Even if it’s fucked up.”

Negan blinked.  _Huh_. That was…that was something else. Rick, trying to understand him, trying to see his reasoning. He never would have guessed the other man would be willing to give him that much thought, to be forgiving of anything he did. “That’s pretty big of you, Rick.”

“As for the other day…it’s not like I’m not biased, since it was me he was attacking. Maybe killing him like that was unnecessary, but you seem to have a pretty big issue with rape, and maybe I’m just relieved to know that you really do hate it that much and that you have a set of morals. And I…I really can’t fault you for reacting like that. I’ve done things, in the heat of the moment…things I should probably regret, but I don’t.” Rick’s voice was tight and clipped and he was no longer meeting Negan’s eyes, staring intently at the wall.

Things Rick regretted. God, did he want to know what things self-righteous Rick Grimes regretted.

“Like what?” Negan asked, looking at Rick expectantly. He was prepared to be shot down, for Rick to tell him that he didn’t want to talk about it, but he surprised Negan by gritting his teeth and launching into a story.

“There was this group a while back, before we found Alexandria. Just a few guys, but they snuck up on us, me and Michonne and Carl, when we were separated from the rest of our group. They had guns to our heads, and one of them grabbed Carl had him on the ground…” There was something in Rick’s voice when he said that, some off-color note that Negan couldn’t quite place.

“I kept hearing him struggling, hearing the leader go on about what they were going to do…the two of us ended up going at each other, throwing punches, and he got my arms pinned to my sides, and I could hear Carl crying out in the background as some fucking guy pinned him, and I just…snapped. I fucking went in, sank my teeth into the guy’s throat, ripped it out. I could taste his blood in my mouth. The guy that had Carl…I killed him. Sunk a knife into his gut and dragged it up to his chest. I just kept stabbing him after that. I don’t know how many times. It wasn’t enough.”

Negan’s eyes went wide. As docile as Rick had been after his initial encounter with Negan, he could still see that bloodlust in Rick’s eyes, even as he spoke. A ferocity and protectiveness that, if Negan was being completely honest, impressed the hell out of him. To rip a man’s throat out with his teeth…fuck, what kind of person had the willpower to do shit like that? Looking at Rick now, he tried to picture it: blood spilling out of his mouth and down his face, streaking his neck. Crimson clotting and clumping in his beard, smeared over his teeth when he bared them.

“Jesus…” He breathed, staring.

Rick squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Yeah. So I…I really can’t blame you. For what you did the other day.”

“Goddamn.” Negan breathed, “I knew you were a bad motherfucker before, what with how you and your guys did my outpost, but fuck. That’s some hardcore shit. Is it wrong that I’m a little impressed right now?”

Rick barked a laugh, short and surprised. “I don’t know why I expected anything less.”

Negan grinned, his voice turning low and flirty. “I’m serious. I’m about fifty percent more into you now that I know there’s enough righteous anger in you to rip out a guy’s throat with your goddamn teeth. That’s fucking intense.” He could practically hear Rick’s eye roll, but it was true. He had a thing for badasses, and  _that_? That was about the most badass shit he’d ever heard. “You’re a fucking interesting guy, Rick. You never stop surprising me, you know that?” He heard the underlying note of affection in his own voice, and internally cursed himself, hoping Rick missed it. It was true, though. An occupational hazard of not being able to read Rick in the slightest, maybe, but every day he spent with Rick, the other man seemed to find a way to surprise him. Nothing about him was expected, and Negan liked that. He liked that Rick Grimes could throw him for a damn loop.

“Yep, that’s me. I’m the whole package, interesting, bloodthirsty, and a nice cock. I can see why you’re so into me.”

Negan burst into surprised laughter, rolling onto his back and clutching his side. Prime example of him catching Negan off guard, right fucking there. “Fuck me, Rick! You’re too damn much sometimes.”

Rick slid down on the bed, turning his body toward Negan. “I’ll pass on fucking you, actually,” He said, grinning.

Negan rolled toward him, hooking an arm around his waist to tug him in closer. It always brought a giddy warmth to his chest when Rick allowed him these little touches, these moments of affection between them. As to  _why_ Rick allowed them, he could only guess. “You sure about that, Rick? You sure all this talk of killing people doesn’t have you all hot and bothered?”

“Shut up.” Rick grunted and shoved him away. Negan gave a dramatic sigh-  _so much for that_ \- and rolled over, turning off the lamp and sliding under the covers. He waited until Rick was under the blanket to pull the smaller man into his arms, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Fuck, he liked this. It had been so damn long since he’d let himself have soft, intimate moments like this with someone- at least, with someone that he knew he wasn’t going to fuck immediately afterwards.

He didn’t like to think about the  _why_. What it all meant, that he was spending so much time in Rick’s room, that he was letting himself be gentle and almost vulnerable with another person like this.

He thought back to the other day, with David. Fucking  _David_. Even now, when the shitbag was a rotting pile of goo in the ground, Negan felt a wave of near-nauseating rage at the thought of what he’d walked in on. He’d acted without thinking, but he didn’t regret it, not for a second. The only thing that would have made him have any reservations about how he’d handled it was if Rick had been freaked out. But he wasn’t. He  _understood_.

“I’m glad you aren’t freaked out about the other day.” Negan murmured against Rick’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure if Rick was still awake, but he needed to say it. He felt the words thrumming in his chest like wings, trying to get out. “I’d hate it if I drove you away over that fucking prick. I didn’t want to scare you. I don’t want to scare you. Not anymore, anyway.”

He was surprised at how much he meant it. He couldn’t say why, or when it had happened, when he’d gone from wanting to terrorize Rick and keep him scared and submissive and obedient to…whatever this was now. All he knew is that he meant it when he said that he didn’t want to scare Rick, meant what he’d told him the other had that he didn’t want to hurt him. It probably should have felt like weakness, admitting that. Especially aloud, to Rick himself. But there was something in him that needed Rick to know.


	17. The Truth- Chapter 15 Negan's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate scene from The Truth Chapter 15 when Rick turns on Negan the morning after they sleep together

Negan noticed Rick’s sudden lack of enthusiasm and broke off the kiss. Rick wouldn’t meet his eyes, and instead stared blankly at the white wall behind the headboard. “Rick. Hey, I know I did a lot of the work last night, but it takes two to tango here.”

When Rick didn’t respond, Negan gently took his chin and his hand and turned his face forward so they could see eye to eye. “Earth to Rick. What’s with you? Don’t like spearmint?” He joked, his head tilted.

When Rick jerked his chin away and rolled off of Negan and out of the bed, Negan’s teasing smile twisted into a frown. What the fuck? He sat up and watched as Rick started collecting his scattered clothes off the floor and getting dressed, refusing to meet Negan’s eyes.

Normally, Negan would assume that he’d said something to piss Rick off. Hell, that was usually the case. But he hadn’t actually said  _anything_  this time. Just kissed him. And he hadn’t minded that a few seconds ago…

“What the hell, Rick? I thought we were going to have a little fun? It sure seemed like you were into it a few seconds ago.” He tried to keep his voice light so as not to provoke whatever the hell it was that Rick was feeling any further. He watched for a moment as Rick deftly pulled his rumpled clothes on, his body angled away from Negan like he was trying to hide.

_No point in that, baby. There’s no part of you I haven’t seen after last night._

Negan swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, grabbing Rick’s arm.

“Rick! What the hell is the problem?” He asked, annoyed now. If Rick was gonna leave him hanging, he should at least do him the courtesy of telling him  _why_.

Rick wrenched his arm out of Negan’s grasp as if his touch burned him. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat, glaring up at Negan, his eyes burning. Negan stepped back with a shock, hands up in an attempt to be unthreatening.

_What the fuck is he trying to pull here? Don’t touch me? Like he wasn’t begging for it last night, like he wasn’t on top of me ready to get fucked all over again less than a minute ago…surely he’s just in a shitty mood…_

“Rick, I’m not looking to force you into anything here. You fucking know that. I just thought- after last night- that you would enjoy an early-morning romp in the hay. If that’s not something you want, that’s totally fine, I just need you to fucking say something-” Rick cut him off, his gaze furious.

“It’s not something I want. None of this is something I want, don’t you get that?” He spat, “You fucking forced me into all of this, and you’re standing here, acting like somehow I would want any of this?” Rick’s laugh was cold, unfeeling, a mockery of humor. Negan’s mind reeled. Rick…didn’t want this? He sure as hell wanted it last night, Negan was completely sure of it. He’d wanted it, he  _had_ , Negan had asked him over and over to be sure. He never would have let things get that far without Rick explicitly telling him it was okay- “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, I don’t know what the hell kind of mind games you’re playing, but that’s the end of it. I cannot fucking believe I let it get this far. I don’t know if it’s Stockholm syndrome or…or what, but this has gotten completely out of hand. I don’t know how the fuck any of this happened, but it’s not happening again.”

Negan felt a pulse of pain echo through him, stinging like a slap to the face. He’d have preferred the hit, he thought. Whatever the hell this was…Rick meant it. All these months they’d spent together, all the time that Rick had begun to soften to him…gone, just like that. Rick’s eyes held the same cold fury that they’d contained the first time they’d met. And while then, it had filled Negan with a twisted sort of glee knowing that he was the one to cause it, now…now that look made his chest ache, his stomach sinking with dread.

He’d really thought…fuck, had he really been  _that_  fucking stupid?

_You gave him too much power by letting him in. You told him shit you shouldn’t have. You let yourself get soft on him, you fucking idiot. What did you expect? Really, Negan, what the fuck did you think was going to happen? Did you think he was gonna learn to like you? To care about you…? Did you really think fucking him was going to change everything else?_

Negan caught a glimpse of how Rick was looking at him, and he was suddenly terrified that Rick could see that spike of pain he’d felt.

_Shut that shit down._

He forced his face into a cold mask, slipping back into the uncaring prick he’d spent years becoming. It scared him a little, how easy it was for him to slide back into cruelty. “Wow. That’s quite a fucking set you’ve got on you there today, Rick,” he snapped, arms crossing over his bare chest. “I forced you into all of this? Really? All of it?Because, as I recall, I was pretty goddamn motherfucking clear to you, from the beginning, that anything physical that happened between us was completely your choice. You’re here, at the Sanctuary, away from your people, because you took the best option for your group. Because you fucking killed my men and didn’t want to deal with the fallout, so you took my extremely generous deal and decided to come stay. I get that that’s not your ideal fucking situation, but you chose it anyway. And I told you- I fucking told you, up front, that you weren’t obligated to do shit with me. The only thing you had to do was stay here and sleep beside me a couple nights a week. Which is a pretty fucking small price to pay for your people’s supplies and access to meds.” His voice had risen to a shout, and Rick’s face was still a glowering portrait of fury. Furious, Negan wanted that look gone. All at once, he wanted Rick crying on the ground again, broken.

_So break him._

“You fucking knew since the beginning of all this shit that you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. And you didn’t. You haven’t done a goddamn thing you didn’t want to do, Rick. The only reason we fucked last night was because you wanted it, because you said you wanted it, because you fucking begged me for it.”

Negan’s face twisted into a malicious grin when he saw the look in Rick’s eyes at that: shame.  _Good. If you wanna pretend like you don’t want it anymore, I hope you carry last night around you like a fucking ball and chain. Hope you feel that shame every time you face your fucking friends, knowing you begged me to put my dick in you._  “And you can’t fucking stand that,” Negan gloated. “You cant’s fucking stand that you gave in, that you actually wanted me to fuck you. So you’re pulling this bullshit, trying to cover your ass, trying to make yourself feel less fucking guilty for wanting to bone the guy who killed your pals, but we both know the truth, don’t we, Rick?”

He leaned in close to Rick’s face, towering over him. It was moments like that that he was thankful that Rick was so much smaller than him. Made it easy to look intimidating. His words had clearly done the trick, because Rick couldn’t even look at him, his face burning hot as he glared at Negan’s shoulder.

“You want me. You don’t want to, you fucking hate yourself for it, you wish you didn’t, but you want me. But you just can’t let go of your pride enough to actually fucking let yourself enjoy it.”

Negan smirked, his tone returning to its usual spiteful teasing. He pulled back, his eyes scanning Rick’s face for a moment before he turned his back to Rick, heading into the bathroom.

“Don’t you fucking worry, Rick. I can take a hint, I have no fucking desire to fuck with people who are just going to have meltdowns about the moral implications of getting laid the morning after the fact. I’ll leave you be, you can fucking sleep alone and you can jack off every night thinking about how much you wish I was there. And please, when you inevitably get sick of the fucking charade, come crawling around me again, following me around like you did before, like a fucking dog begging for scraps. Come tell me how much you miss me so I can laugh in your fucking face. Don’t deny me the fucking pleasure of seeing you beg for me to come back to your bed after this.”

He shut the door behind him, gritting his teeth and trying to push down the swell of hurt rising in his chest.

 _You fucking idiot_ , he berated himself as he stepped into the shower,  _This is why you don’t fucking let people get too close. They either die or they disappoint you._


	18. The Truth- Chapter 11 Negan's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alt Scene from chapter 11 of The Truth where David attacks Rick. Negan's perspective. CW for attempted rape.

Negan whistled as he headed down to the storage area where the supplies from this week’s run to the Hilltop were being unloaded. Simon had dutifully trotted over to him when they’d gotten back and told him there had been a nice haul of scotch this week, a couple bottles worth, and Negan was eager to give them a little taste test. If he remembered right, Rick should be hanging around unloading things today. Maybe he could convince him to play hooky and have a drink or two with him. He smiled to himself as he tried to picture what kind of drunk Rick Grimes was.

When he asked where the booze was, Laura pointed him down the flight of stairs leading to a storage room. He headed down, swinging Lucille cheerfully by his side when the sounds of struggle stopped him dead in his tracks at the top of the stairs.

There were scuffling sounds, a grunt of pain, and then a voice-

“What’s the problem, bitch? I figured you’d be used to this by now. Just settle the fuck down.”

Negan didn’t like the sound of that at all, and he broke into a sprint down the stairs to be met with the sight of Rick on his stomach, pinned to the ground by man much larger than him. He recognized the man immediately- David, one of his soldiers who had something of a temper problem.

And if Negan wasn’t already pissed enough about this man roughing Rick up, what he noticed next was enough to make him see red.

David’s belt was undone, his hands on Rick’s hips, tugging down his jeans.

_No_. No,  _fuck_   _no_ was any sorry piece of shit going to put their hands on Rick. He charged at David. “What the fuck?” He shouted, his voice echoing through the room. He seized David by the collar of his shirt and threw him off of Rick, who scrambled away quickly.

“What the fucking fuck is going on? What the shit do you think you’re doing?” Negan barked at David’s crouched form, setting Lucille to the side. It was a rhetorical question, of course. Negan didn’t need a map drawn for him to see exactly where David had been planning on doing to Rick. He tasted bile in his throat at the very thought and grabbed the man roughly off the floor, fingers digging unkindly into his shoulders before slamming him into the wall, forearm across his windpipe. He relished the weak sound of breathless pain that David made.

“Well? Fucking tell me, exactly what were you doing to my husband just now, David?” David tried to speak but was only able to make ragged gasping noises with Negan’s arm against his throat. Negan loosened his hold, just enough so the man could talk.

_Tell me, you piece of shit. You’re going to look me in the face and tell me exactly what you were planning on doing to him._

“I-I…I wasn’t…I didn’t think you’d mind- he’s just some bitch you pulled out of the new group- I didn’t know-” David visibly shook as he spoke, and something in Negan snapped at that. Wouldn’t  _mind_? That shit was unbelievable. Negan let out a feral-sounding growl as he slammed the man back into the wall again.

“You didn’t think I’d mind? Is this a fucking joke? Are you fucking joking right now?” He shouted into David’s face. “You’re going to look me in the fucking face and tell me that you didn’t think I would mind if you  _raped my husband?_ ”

Negan wanted to grab the man’s shoulders and shake him violently, smash the back of his skull against the wall and hear his teeth rattle, wanted to start kneeing him in the groin until he was no longer physically capable of doing what he’d planned. He settled for digging his elbow into David’s windpipe until the man was struggling and gasping for air. He let himself enjoy the other man’s pain, his struggle for breath, for just a moment  before he let up enough so that the man could respond.

“I just thought-since he’s basically just a prisoner- I would never do that to one of your actual wives, you know that, sir.” He was groveling, a sniveling, useless excuse of a man.  _Actual_  wives? Rick was every bit Negan’s. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think- I didn’t mean to- I swear, it won’t happen again, it won’t-” He was cut off by Negan pulling back and clocking him. He crunched over in pain and when Negan dragged him back up by the shoulders, his nose was bent at a strange angle and pouring blood down his lips and chin.  _Fucking_   _good_ , Negan thought.  _Hope it’s broken. Hope it fucking hurts like hell. Hope you start choking on your own blood._

“What the fuck are you saying, you didn’t mean to? What, you didn’t fucking mean to be down here with your hands all over him?” He hated that shit, that trying-to-cover-your-ass cowardice.  _Didn’t mean to_ …fuck, he’d caught him with his pants down, literally and metaphorically. The very least the piece of shit could do was own up to it. David visibly shook and tried to stammer out a response only to be cut off again.

“And Rick is my actual fucking husband, you worthless sack of shit!” Negan shouted into his face. “And even if he wasn’t, that shit is disgusting, it’s fucking inhuman. We do not sink to that fucking level, do you not get that? Repeat after me. We. Don’t. Rape.”

“W-we don’t rape.” David repeated, his voice shaking. Negan didn’t loosen his hold on his shirt. This wasn’t going to stand. Fuck, he’d really thought David’s problem was just an I-can’t-control-my-damn-mouth thing, not an I-won’t-control-my-dick thing.

He wasn’t going to have that shit under his roof. The people here expected safety and protection from scum like this. No way was he going to let this man walk away and risk him doing this to someone else. Or to Rick again. The thought made him sick, and he could see it too easily: David, carrying a vendetta, lurking around corners and waiting to jump Rick, to finish what he started.

He wasn’t going to get the fucking chance.

“That shit is unacceptable, David.” Negan shook his head, forcing himself to speak calmly despite the shaking swell of rage burning in his chest. “Rape is against the rules here. You do remember the rules, don’t you?” He released David, pushing him into the wall as he did.

“I’m sorry, sir.” David said, looking thoroughly shaken.

“You really crossed the line here, you stupid fuck.” Negan growled, snatching Lucille from her place against the wall. He gripped the bat tightly before whirling around, Lucille whistling through the air to collide with the side of David’s skull with a satisfying, sickening crunch.

He watched David’s head split open, his skull crushed between the bat and the concrete wall. Negan pulled Lucille back and hit him again, the flesh on the side of the man’s head ripping away with the barbed wire, exposing muscle and bone.

_You don’t get to fucking touch him. You don’t get to touch anyone like that, ever, you disgusting bastard._

He swung Lucille.

_Take it._

The bat dripped blood on the upswing, spattering crimson against the gray wall.

_Take it._

Negan kept swinging, even after David’s body collapsed lifelessly against the floor, leaving a bloody smear against the wall. By the time Negan got his fill, everything above the man’s shoulders was an indiscernible lump of meat.

Negan didn’t usually enjoy killing. He really didn’t, despite the act he put on. He did what he had to do to survive, to earn fearful respect and keep people in line, to keep himself and other people alive. It didn’t bother him, it hadn’t for a long time, but he didn’t get any joy out of it. He was just doing what he saw needed to be done.

But this? He couldn’t lie. He took a deep, savage satisfaction in ending David.

Negan’s shoulders heaved, his breathing heavy as he turned to face Rick. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down before kneeling down in front of him. He gently set Lucille against the wall again, and his insides twisted unpleasantly when he saw Rick’s face: wide-eyed, a glimmer of fear there. Not as much fear as he’d expected, given that he’d just watched Negan kill someone less than three feet from him, but it was there.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Rick.” Negan said, his voice gentle. “I’m so fucking sorry that piece of shit put his filthy fucking hands on you. I promise you, it will not happen again. We’re not monsters here.” He reached a hand out to Rick, not touching him yet, just offering. He tried to convey with a look everything he was thinking:

_I’m sorry. I’ll protect you. I’ll never, never let anyone do that shit to you. I’ll never touch you in a way that you don’t want._

When Rick just stared blankly at him, Negan moved to pull his hand back. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Rick. Not as long as you’re with me.”

Rick’s face softened at that, and he reached up and caught Negan’s hand as he was pulling back, nodding once to indicate that he was okay. Negan leaned forward, one hand gently cupping the side of Rick’s face while the other ran through his hair, pushing away stray curls.

He scanned Rick’s face, checking for injury, and spotted a red mark across his cheekbone that was sure to bruise. Negan’s thumb brushed over it lightly, careful not to cause him more pain, and he frowned, clenching his jaw in anger.

_What else did he do to you, Rick?_

He allowed a few moments of silence, watching Rick’s face as he closed his eyes and relaxed into his touch. “Are you okay?” Rick opened his eyes and nodded. He winced at the movement and a curl of panic flashed through Negan. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. He, uh…he slammed my head into the wall a couple times, just hurts a bit.”

He suddenly regretted killing David so quickly. He deserved so much fucking worse than a quick death. Sadistically, he hoped that the initial blow didn’t kill him. Hoped he really  _felt_ it, even for a few moments. Negan felt the sudden impulse to wrap Rick in his arms and comfort him, but he held back, unsure if that was something Rick would want right now.

Negan stood up, taking Rick’s hand. Rick moved to boost himself up, but when he was on his feet, he faltered to the side, stumbling on unsteady legs.

_Shit!_

Negan lunged forward, catching Rick under the arms and holding him up. Rick’s arms flew up to Negan’s shoulders to steady himself, unsteady fingers gripping at leather.

“You’re clearly not fine.” He said, pulling Rick in close enough so that he could look into his eyes. They were unfocused, the irises just a narrow ring of light blue swallowed by blown-out pupils. “You can’t fucking stand and your pupils are dilated. Come on, I’m taking you to the infirmary. You probably have a concussion.” 

He looped one arm under Rick’s shoulder and the other held his hand in place, easily supporting his weight. A sudden flash of memory came to him of them in this same position, their roles reversed. Rick had done this for him before, that evening when he’d been out in the cabin, drunk and lamenting the loss of Lucille. It had surprised him that Rick had stayed with him that night, that he’d half-carried him back to the Sanctuary, bodies pressed close. He had never thanked Rick properly for that, but he was determined to try to make up for that now by returning the favor.


	19. The Truth- Negan realizes he likes Rick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy interlude from The Truth where Negan realizes he has a bit of a crush on Rick

Looking back, Negan wasn’t entirely sure when it first happened. If he had to guess, he would probably say it started the first night he met Rick Grimes.

It was never going to be love at first sight, of course. Even now, Negan had his doubts about whether it could ever become love at all. But Rick, down there on his knees, ratty black jeans scraping the dirt in the illuminated clearing on that cold night…he was something else, that was for sure. He hadn’t conjured up a clear picture of what the man might look like beforehand, but Negan figured he’d be huge, some hulking, brutish thing. He’d led his group into slaughtering over twenty men in their sleep, after all. He expected arrogance, perhaps someone not unlike himself.

When he’d stepped out of the RV and scanned the group on their knees, he’d zeroed in on the redhead. He looked the type, Negan thought: defiant, even on the ground, muscled and burly with an air of indignant rage. 

But instead, when he’d asked who the leader was, he got Rick Grimes: slim, eyes a vibrant blue, shorter than Negan by at least a good four inches. When Negan had killed his friends, threatened the lives of more, he’d shaken, tears in his eyes.

Soft. He as so damn  _soft_. How had this man survived for so long?

And then Negan got in his face, because he just couldn’t resist. Mocked him. And that’s when those blue eyes had shifted from water to ice.

_“Not today, not tomorrow, but I’m going to kill you.”_

Negan was pretty sure that was the moment it started. That pretty face, a storm of anguish and anger, dressed up with a heady resolve. He meant it, too. He really did want him dead. He really did think he could accomplish that. And in that moment, he knew he’d misjudged the leader. Rick Grimes was far from soft. 

So, naturally, that’s when Negan decided to ask for his hand in marriage.

After that initial meeting, everything was a hurricane of confusion.

Negan was a big enough man to admit that he didn’t have the first clue what he planned on doing with Rick after he got him to the Sanctuary. He started off just trying to get under his skin- which was easy enough. Some cuddling, offhand comments, less-than subtle flirting…it was so  _easy_ to earn Rick’s ire.

Negan wanted to fuck him, sure. He was a gorgeous man, and Negan was only human. But he didn’t see that happening. Not with how much Rick hated him.

So he settled for getting as close as he could, just to see what Rick would do. It was a game, seeing how far he could push Rick until the other man pushed back. Negan  _liked_  him when he pushed back. The low growl to his voice, the icy glare, the way the muscles in his jaw would jump and twitch. The occasional biting comments that always left Negan reeling with unexpected laughter.

So he spent nights in Rick’s bed, wrapped around him from behind, both of them- unfortunately- doing nothing but sleeping.

When he’d slipped up and kissed Rick one morning on his way out the door, he felt a pang of guilt, as he’d promised not to force anything like that on him. It had been reflexive, a gesture left over from his activities with his other wives. He’d been ready to apologize- he was never above doing so, when he truly felt he’d fucked up- but Rick…Rick hadn’t gotten angry, hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t told him to fuck off or not to do it again.

He’d fucking  _blushed_. So prettily, too, a flush of pink over his cheeks. There had been no dangerous glint to his eye, either, just a wide-eyed surprise. And, although perhaps it was just Negan’s wishful thinking, maybe a flutter of curiosity. 

So, yeah, he’d kept doing it. And Rick kept letting him, even going so far as to look at him almost expectantly some mornings, as if waiting for his goodbye kiss.

It was at that point that he got it in his head that he really could bed Rick Grimes. It would be a hatefuck and nothing more, but it would be  _delicious_.

He didn’t kid himself that they could ever have anything more, even when Rick showed signs of warming to him. When Rick found him, drunk off his ass out in the woods on the anniversary of Lucille’s death, he’d all but carried him home and tucked him into bed. And it was then, in his mostly-still-drunk state, that Negan made the mistake of spilling his fucking guts to Rick, lamenting the loss of Lucille. He’d expected Rick to scoff or ignore him or, hell, tell him he deserved it.

Instead, Rick had opened up about the loss of his own wife and then curled his body around Negan’s, holding him close. Comforting him.

From then on, it was harder to convince himself that what he felt for Rick was purely sexual. He didn’t have a good explanation for why he found himself comforting a crying Rick after a day-long run that had ended with them finding the remains of a child, torn apart in its crib. He couldn’t say why, when Rick was attacked by one of Negan’s own men, he had gotten on his knees in front of Rick and implored him to see that Negan would never hurt him, never let anyone else hurt him.

Looking back now, in light of everything, he knew why. Fuck, he probably knew why then, too, but God fucking knows he wasn’t about to admit it.

As cocky and self-assured as he acted, he was shocked with every new step that he and Rick took forward. When he found himself looking at Rick a little too long, or touching him a little too affectionately. He told himself that it didn’t mean anything that he instructed his men to keep an eye out for baby supplies for Rick’s daughter, or when Rick finally gave in and kissed him back in their bed one night, or when he fucking  _laid himself out on their bed_  and let Negan watch as he jerked himself off.

_This means nothing. This can’t go anywhere. You don’t even fucking want it to go anywhere, right?_

Tanya picked up on it, though. He was pretty sure all of his wives knew, after Rick had let it slip that Negan was spending the night in his bed- something he’d always been adamantly against with his previous partners. They gave him knowing looks when he came back after a night spent with Rick, or left to go sleep beside him.

“You gettin’ a little crush on your husband, Negan?” Tanya teased, laying back on his bed, her eyes dancing. She’d heard him in the shower groaning Rick’s name a little too loudly as she’d waited for him.

_A crush on Rick_ , Negan scoffed to himself,  _fucking ridiculous._

After that, though, the thought stuck in his head.

_Is that what this is? What the fuck. I’m too fucking old to have a goddamn crush._

When they finally fucked, that was when Negan knew that there was something more to how he felt about Rick. It wasn’t even the sex, not really. It was after, when they’d fallen asleep wrapped up together, and he’d felt almost giddy. Not just I-finally-got-to-put-my-dick-in-him giddy, either. He felt content in a way that he hadn’t been in a long time, since long before he was Negan, leader of the Saviors. And he’d caught himself thinking, as he began to doze off with Rick in his arms that night,  _I cannot fucking believe this man is mine._


	20. The Truth- Alternate Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 of The Truth, but a different take- it's from Negan's perspective, and David does end up raping Rick. CW for rape and violence.

Negan whistled as he headed down to the storage area where the supplies from this week’s run to the Hilltop were being unloaded. Simon had dutifully trotted over to him when they’d gotten back and told him there had been a nice haul of scotch this week, a couple bottles worth, and Negan was eager to give them a little taste test. If he remembered right, Rick should be hanging around unloading things today. Maybe he could convince him to play hooky and have a drink or two with him. He smiled to himself as he tried to picture what kind of drunk Rick Grimes was.

When he asked where the booze was, Laura pointed him down the flight of stairs leading to a storage room. He took a step inside and bumped shoulders with one of his soldiers- a bald man named-  _shit, what was his name again?_  David. That’s right.

“Sorry, boss,” The man said, taking a step out of the storage room. Negan waved him off.

“No fucking harm done. You see Rick? I’m lookin’ for him.”

A look passed over David’s face that Negan couldn’t quite read- just for a second- before the man nodded easily and jerked his head down the stairs. “Yeah, he’s down there. He’s just unloading stuff, Laura’s making good use of him. Probably busy.” There was something about the way he said it- a little too fast, that gave Negan pause. He narrowed his eyes, looking David over.

“Why aren’t you down there helping him out, then?” He quipped.

David swallowed, taking a cautious step away from Negan. “I, ah. I’ve been at it for a while. I’ve been taking stuff down to him and he’s putting it away. We’ve got a system.”

Negan let David sweat for a couple more seconds before he relaxed, clapping the man on the shoulder. “I’m just fucking messing with you! Keep doin’ what you’re doin’.”

And with that, David disappeared, presumably to go fetch more of today’s haul, and Negan turned to start walking down the stairs- let David and the others deal with unloading, he wanted some quality time with his favorite husband.

The first thing Negan heard upon stepping into the storage area was the sound of small, hitching breaths that made ice shoot down his spine.

Those were not the sounds of someone who was okay.

Negan was bolting down the stairs before he could even think about it- was Rick fucking hurt? Had he dropped something on himself, had a shelf fallen? His feet hit the concrete at the bottom of the stairway, and he froze in place, horrified at the sight before him.

Rick was kneeling on the ground, curled in on himself, pale fingers gripping at his the knees of his jeans. His breaths were coming out so panicked and stuttered that his whole body seemed to be heaving.

The noises he was making- Negan had never heard him sound like that before. Small, choked, like he was trying to keep them in and failing, like they were being ripped right out of his lungs.

There was a belt on the floor about a foot away from where he was hunched. A belt, and several dark smudges of blood that made Negan uneasy.

_What the fuck?  
_ Negan took a step forward, and Rick’s head jerked up, his whole body tense. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks wet with tears. There were the beginnings of a bruise across one cheekbone, and a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth, and- Negan’s heart stopped for a moment when he noticed it. Rick had raised up just enough for him to see.

His jeans were undone, the button and zipper pulled apart, the waistband of Rick’s pants loose around his hips.

_No. No-_

“Rick,” Negan said, trying to keep his voice even despite the sudden burning onslaught of rage in his chest, “What did he do to you?”

Negan’s words seemed to pull Rick back into himself- he scrambled to his feet, hurriedly refastening his jeans. He didn’t speak, but Negan caught the way he winced when he stood, how he swayed a little on his feet, how his fingers stammered and fumbled with the button.

Negan forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. He was torn between two extremes, one half of him wanting to bolt back up the stairs and find David and beat the living shit out of him. Rip him a-fucking-part, let Lucille have a little fun. Or a fuckload of fun. He could feel the righteous anger already swelling in him, rising up from his gut until he could taste bile in his throat.

The other half of him desperately wanted to cradle Rick and comfort him, do whatever it too until that look of utter  _hurt_  faded off of his beautiful face. But first…he needed to actually ask him. Don’t fucking assume. Maybe they just fought- maybe Rick got him off before-

David hadn’t looked too banged up, though. The thought settled like a stone in his stomach.

“Rick,” Negan repeated, his voice carefully gentle, “I need you to tell me what happened. David- did he attack you? Did he-” He swallowed. Rick still wasn’t looking at him. “Rick, did he- force himself on you?”

He’d phrased it as delicately as he could, but Rick still sucked in a sharp breath, like Negan had struck him. Negan took a single step forward, and Rick skittered back like a startled deer, and then his knees wobbled and gave out, collapsing to the ground. Negan shot forward then, trying to catch Rick by the arms and only partially succeeding, grasping one elbow while Rick clutched at his head.

“Rick, what the hell is going on, what’s wrong, what fucking  _happened_ …?”

Rick wrenched back, meeting Negan’s eyes finally. They were watery and bloodshot and his pupils were dilated, swallowing the light blue of his irises. At the very least, he’d taken more than a few blows from David, because his face was bruised and scratched, his full lower lip split painfully. And Negan got the feeling that his sudden stumble was out of more than just fear- he looked disoriented. On top of it all, he was shaking violently, tremors running through him that he seemed to have no control over.

_He’s in fucking shock._

Negan held his hands up, scooting back on the floor just enough to give Rick a little space. On a whim, he shrugged out of his jacket, holding it out to Rick. “Here. You’re fucking shaking.” When Rick didn’t pull away, he gingerly draped the jacket over the smaller man’s shoulders, careful not to touch him. Rick gazed at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Hey, Rick. You’re alright. I’m not gonna fucking bite. I just need you to tell me what happened.”

Rick dropped his eyes again looking at his hands in his lap. He was quiet for a long moment, and Negan was just about to prompt him again when he spoke.

“He did,” Rick murmured, the pain in his voice palpable.

“He did what, Rick?”

“He did…what you asked if he did.” He had to force the words out between clenched teeth, and Negan’s whole body seized up with the force of his rage. 

_I’m going to kill that disgusting fucking piece of shit. I’m going to fucking gut him-_

“He- I dropped some bottles, he got pissed, started- started hitting me. I fought back…he slammed my head into the wall and we ended up on the floor and he- he-” Rick choked around the words, something like shame etched into his face, and it made Negan want to pull the smaller man to him.

He didn’t. It wouldn’t be an appreciated gesture, he was sure. Instead, he took a deep, steadying breath and grabbed the hand radio he kept on him, calling Laura.

“Laura. Is David up there?” His voice was tight, barely restrained.

Laura’s voice filtered through the static a moment later. “He was. Can’t see him now. You need him.”

Negan hissed through his teeth. The fucker wanted to run and hide? Let him. He’d be found. “I need you to drop what you’re doing and round up a team and find that fucking son of a bitch.” His restraint slipped a little at the end, barking into the phone. Rick didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes, sir. What do you want me to do when we find him?”

A good question. A better one would be what  _wasn’t_  Negan going to do when they found him?

“Put him in the hole. I need to figure out when I’m doing with him. You let me know when you have him, you got that, Laura?” His words were bitten out between his teeth to keep himself from shouting.

“Yes, sir.”

With that, Negan turned back to Rick, feeling unsettled and unsure in a way that he so rarely did. Cautiously, he reached out a hand to Rick, just offering. Rick stared at him blankly, and Negan nearly pulled back, but he remembered the way Rick had stumbled to the floor. He needed to see a doctor, make sure he didn’t have a concussion. He suddenly remember the blood on the floor and a horrible thought flashed through Negan’s mind:  _he may need to be looked over to make sure there isn’t any damage-_

He shook it away, feeling nauseated. He didn’t want to think about  _that_. “Rick. Can you stand on your own? Can you walk? Because I need to get you to a doctor, make sure that you’re alright-”

Rick recoiled, looking horrified. “No! No, I’m fine, I don’t need- I don’t need a doctor.”

“Rick, you were fucking bleeding.”

“He hit me a lot. I was- I spit some blood on the floor.”

“If he- if you…” Negan trailed off, unsure of how to phrase this in a way that wouldn’t make Rick retreat further into himself. “If he did any…damage…it would be better to have it looked at-”

“No!” Rick yelped, lip trembling. He clutched at the knees of his jeans rhythmically, swallowing hard. “I just- please, Negan. Just let me- please just let me take care of it.  _Please_.” He pleaded, his voice torn.

Negan nodded, trying to reassure him. “Okay. Okay, Rick. It’s alright. You don’t want a doctor touching you, that’s fine.” Not like they could do much for a concussion, anyway. He’d get someone to bring Rick some painkillers and make sure he stayed awake. He’d keep an eye on him. God knows he wasn’t about to leave Rick’s side after this.

“Thank you,” Rick mumbled shyly.

Negan’s words came tumbling out, rushed and desperate, but awfully sincere. “Rick, what do you need? Do you need me to help you walk? Do you need me to leave you the fuck alone? Do you- I don’t fucking know. Shit- fuck-” He dropped his hand finally, but Rick caught it. The shock of cold fingers closing around his own nearly made him jolt.

“Just wanna take a shower. I can walk. I was dizzy. I’m fine.”

He wasn’t. The second he took a step forward, his legs wobbled under him like the floor had dropped out from beneath his feet. Negan caught him on instinct, violently hating the way Rick nearly flinched out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry, Rick, but I can’t let you fall.”

“I’m fine.”

Negan sensed a pattern forming there.

**–-**

Laura radioed back once Negan got Rick back to his room.

“Got him, boss. He’s in the hole now, got a couple guys on the door. What did he-”

“None of your fucking business,” Negan snapped, a little more harshly than needed. “Thanks, Laura. As you were.”

He turned to Rick, who had scrambled onto the bed and out of Negan’s grasp as soon as he could, like the touch had burned him. Negan did his best not to take it personally. He crouched in front of the bed, kneeling in front of Rick.

“I’m going to kill that fucking shitstain who did this, Rick,” he saw how Rick’s eyes went wide at that. “That’s a fucking promise. No one does that shit while I’m around, you got that?  _No one._ No one’s gonna hurt you like that again, Rick, I fucking swear, nobody’s going to touch you. I’m so fucking sorry, Rick, I’m so sorry that sack of shit put his hands on you, that he-” Negan tried to reign it in. “I’m sorry. It’s not enough, and I wish like hell that I could have stopped it from happening. I’m so fucking sorry, Rick. What do you need? Anything, fucking anything you need, I’ll-”

“Just take care of it. Of him,” Rick said. “I just want to take a shower. Please.”

“Of course, Rick. Anything.”

**–-**

He didn’t want to leave Rick alone. Rick spent a solid half hour in the shower, coming out red and raw and wet when he finally emerged from the bathroom. Negan wanted David dead- it made him fucking itchy to think that there was a fucking rapist within the walls of the Sanctuary- but he was fucking terrified of leaving Rick alone. It was irrational, he knew- there were people he could trust implicitly here, people he shouldn’t have a problem leaving Rick with for fifteen minutes while he took care of things. But he couldn’t go.

So he asked.

“Do you want to do it?”

Rick blinked at him, fresh faced in clean clothes. His eyes still had that wounded look in them. It made Negan want to patch him up. “Do what?”

“Do you want to kill him?”

Rick stood there for a moment, looked at his feet, ran a hand through his damp hair. “I…” he hesitated.

“Because if you do, you can. Take your fucking vengeance. Put him down like the fucking dog he is. Can be fucking cathartic, you know. Killing the bastards that  _really_  deserve it.” He hoped that Rick wasn’t thinking of the two men that he’d killed that first night. Rick’s men. They hadn’t deserved it- not like David. Not like some of the other people that Negan had crossed paths with in his time.

He knew Rick had likely crossed paths with similar people. That he knew exactly what Negan meant.

There was a flicker of something on Rick’s face- something Negan had thought was long buried in Rick. But it was always there, Negan knew- that killer instinct. That tic in his fingers that made them twitch toward his gun. He liked that in Rick- that he was a man that did what had to be done, did what was necessary and not just what was good.

“I don’t know.” Rick finally admitted.

“Well, I want to get it done. Now. Don’t fucking want that prick breathing longer than he has to. But I don’t…if I’m being honest, Rick, I don’t really want to fucking leave you here on your own.” It was a weighty admission, but he felt Rick deserved some honesty, so decency. He deserved to know that Negan cared what happened to him. “I know nobody else is fucking stupid enough to pull that shit, but I…fuck, I just don’t feel right leaving you.”

Rick’s face softened at that, something like wonder on his face. “I’ll come with you, then.”

So he did.

**–-**

When they got to the holding cell, Negan waved the guards off so he could step inside, Rick on his heels.

David shook when they entered, beady eyes darting from Negan to Rick to Lucille, held aloft over Negan’s shoulder. Because he fucking knew. 

Why he decided to go though with it in the first place was a goddamned mystery to Negan. Maybe he was just that fucking stupid. But now, in this cell, with both of them there- Negan could see in his eyes that he knew he wasn’t leaving alive.

“I guess you fucking know what this is about.” Negan said.

“I-” David opened his mouth to speak, and it was at that moment that Negan realized that he didn’t want to hear his voice. He moved fast, gripping Lucille and swinging her hard, bringing her down between the man’s legs.

_Take it. You just fucking take it._

He took a little too much satisfaction in the scream of pain that was ripped out of the man on the ground, at the way he crumpled into a ball and gasped out ragged breaths.

“You know what?” Negan asked, the tentative control he had on himself slipping rapidly, “I don’t fucking care. I know you know why we’re here. I know you know why I’m doing this. I know you know why I’m about to beat the holy fucking hell out of you. But I’m just gonna say this, you piece of shit: you know the fucking rules. You do not rape. You do not touch what is mine. And you just fucking did both of those things anyway, didn’t you, you stupid fuck?”

He slammed Lucille into David’s shoulder this time, ripping away both shirt and skin, blood pouring out of the gaping wound, pooling around David’s filthy fingers as he tried to put pressure on it.

Negan was breathing heavy, drawing Lucille back for a third strike, when Rick’s hand covered his.

“Let me.”

It was a sign of just how much Negan liked Rick that he handed his beloved bat over to be wielded by someone else.

Watching Rick beat David to death with her- well, he was pretty sure he liked him even more now.

Rick wasn’t as cruel with his blows as Negan was- he was quick, efficient, going straight for the head and striking hard enough to crack the skull on the first downward swing. The crack of it- of wood meeting bone and bone crunching into the concrete floor of the cell- was loud, sickening. Negan didn’t mind it.

Rick didn’t seem to hear it.

The screaming stopped immediately, becoming a wet, gurgling that was silenced with the next blow. And then it was just the gory sound of the Lucille ripping apart flesh and shattered bone and brain matter and the grunt of Rick’s heavy breathing as he wielded the weapon.

Rick stumbled back after a minute, his grip on the bat loosening so that she fell to the floor.

Negan decided to let that go. 

Rick was shaking again, looking raw and a little lost, his eyes searching Negan for something that neither of them were sure of.

When Negan reached out, it was just a guess, a shot in the dark.

When Rick staggered forward into his arms, clutching at his shirt, he took some relief in knowing he’d been offering what Rick wanted. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, stroking his hair while Rick panted heavily into his shoulder.

“It’s alright. It’s al-fucking-right, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”


	21. The Truth- Chapter 14 Negan's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First sex scene in The Truth from Negan's POV

_“Did you miss me last night?” Negan asked, playful and light. He expected Rick to roll his eyes and say no. He waited for it, grinning at him from across the room._

“I might have a bit, yeah.”

Negan couldn’t stop the startled noise that escaped his throat, making Rick’s head snap up in his direction. “Fuck me. I didn’t think you’d own up to it.” He said, chuckling in surprise.

Rick scoffed. “Own up to it?”

“Yeah, Rick.  _Own up to it_. Because I was just asking to give you a chance to be honest with me. I already knew you missed me.” Well, he’d hoped. He always hoped. But Rick didn’t need to know that.

Rick crossed the room and stood in front of Negan, mimicking the way Negan always got in Rick’s space. He decided immediately that he liked it. “How’d you know that?”

“Oh, c’mon, Rick. You were like a little lost puppy last night, all sad eyes and tail down when I told you I was gonna be sleepin’ somewhere else.” Which was the only reason he’d allowed himself to hope that Rick had really missed him. That look last night had been…surprising, as everything with Rick always was. But fuck if he didn’t get some satisfaction out of the look of confused hurt that had crossed Rick’s face when he told him he was going to be sleeping elsewhere.

“I think you were imagining things,” Rick muttered, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh, I think we both know I wasn’t. C’mon now, Rick. How long are we gonna play this little game? I know it’s been fun. Hell, I enjoy the thrill of the chase as much as anyone, but at some point you’ve gotta stop fucking blue-balling yourself.”

“Meaning?” Rick asked.

“Meaning,” Negan intoned, leaning in closer and hooking his fingers into Rick’s beltloops, “That I think it’s time you fucking gave in. You’ve been slipping, and in some pretty damn major ways. You can’t still be pretending you don’t want this, Rick. Not after you fucking kissed me, and certainly not after that little stunt you pulled yesterday morning.” Rick’s face flushed slightly at the reminder, and Negan grinned. “I’ve been real patient, and I meant it when I said I’d wait for you to be ready, but you have fucking been ready, and I think you need a bit of a push.”

Rick bit his lip and met Negan’s eyes. “So push me.”

_Holy shit. You fucking got it, baby._

Negan’s eyes lit up with a fevered intensity, and he jerked Rick even closer by the loops of his jeans, their bodies flush against each other, foreheads almost touching. “Do you want me to kiss you, Rick?”

Let yourself have this, baby. Come on. Let me have you. I’ll make you feel so fucking good-

“Yes,” he whispered. Negan broke into a wide grin.

“What was that, Rick? I didn’t quite hear you. What is it that you want?” He was probably pushing his luck, he knew. A wiser man would just take Rick immediately before he had the chance to start overthinking things like he always did. But who would Negan be if he didn’t push just a little?

“I want you to kiss me. Please.” Rick said, voice stronger this time.

Negan hadn’t asked for that  _please_ , but fuck yes, did he like the sound of that. As soon as it left Rick’s mouth, Negan’s lips were on his. It briefly crossed Negan’s mind that Rick’s mouth felt ridiculously fucking perfect against his. His hands wrapped around Rick’s narrow hips and pressed him backwards, not breaking the kiss, until Rick’s back was against the wall.

Negan felt how Rick kissed him back, cautiously at first, then with fevered intensity, letting his hands slide up Negan’s back into his short hair.

_Fuck yes, baby. Give it a tug, I don’t fucking mind._

Negan deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into Rick’s mouth to taste him and chuckling into the kiss when he heard Rick groan. Rick responded by kissing him harder, muffling Negan’s laughter.

Negan nipped at Rick’s lower lip, causing him to jump slightly, before running his tongue over it and sucking it into his mouth for a moment. His lips left Rick’s mouth to work their way down the crook of the smaller man’s neck. Negan kissed at the skin there, just above the line of his collar, teeth nipping lightly, before giving a hard suck that would surely leave a mark. Maybe that was a dick move. Okay, it was  _definitely_  a dick move, and come tomorrow, Rick would probably be pissed at him for leaving bruises that other people could see, but Negan felt a petty impulse to mark Rick as his.

Right now, Rick didn’t seem to mind at all, if the way he was groaning and rutting his hips into Negan’s. One of Negan’s legs slipped between Rick’s, his thigh pressing up into Rick’s crotch. Rick let out a little hitching gasp at the friction, his grip on Negan’s hair tightening, and Negan chuckled into the side of Rick’s neck.  _Jesus_ , the sounds he was making right now…and they were only kissing. He could just picture how Rick would sound when he was actually getting fucked. At that thought, Negan couldn’t wait anymore. He let his lips climb up to Rick’s ear to whisper, “Bed?” in a husky voice.

“Yes, god yes,” Rick breathed, and then Negan was walking him back toward the bed, backing him into it until he was forced to sprawl out atop the blankets, Negan half on top of him. Negan pressed Rick  forward until he was up against the pillows, moving his hands down from Rick’s face to place them on either side of Rick’s hips, and swung a leg over so that he was straddling Rick.

Negan leaned forward, capturing Rick’s lips again. He loved how Rick moved against him, how his hands kept finding their way up his back. He briefly wondered if Rick would keep them there while he was getting fucked, if he’d dig them in and drag them down and leave stinging trails in their wake.

_God, I fucking hope so._

Negan’s mouth moved to the juncture between Rick’s neck and shoulder, and he bit down hard enough to make Rick gasp and dig his fingertips into Negan’s back.

_Fuck. Was that a good gasp or a bad one?_

“Too much?” Negan pulled back, scanning Rick’s face for signs of discomfort. Shit, he didn’t want to scare him off-

In response, Rick grabbed the bottom of Negan’s shirt and pulled it up and over his head. “Fuck no,” He retorted, kissing Negan again.

Negan grinned and dived back onto Rick, fingers beginning to undo the buttons on the smaller man’s shirt, exposing his chest. Negan kissed wetly down Rick’s torso as he undid the buttons, teeth scraping against skin every so often, earning strangled moans from Rick each time.

_He likes a bit of biting. Good to fucking know._

Negan continued peppering teasing kisses to Rick’s chest, taking his time, his lips tracing down his torso, nipping at flesh here and there and making Rick yelp. Negan’s tongue traced around Rick’s right nipple, teasing it into hardness, before closing his lips around it and nibbling lightly. Negan kissed his way over to the left one and repeated the motions, his right hand sliding up from Rick’s waist to continue to tease the other one. He wanted to go slow, draw it out for as long as he could. He wanted to know every inch of Rick after tonight, what drove him crazy and what didn’t, what made him make those delicious little hitching breaths he was making right now as he kissed his way down his body.

Negan stopped at the waistline of Rick’s pants, admiring the sizable bulge in the material for a moment before undoing Rick’s belt and jeans and sliding them down his lean thighs.

Negan hitched one of Rick’s legs around his hip as he crawled back up his body, slotting their hips together and suppressing a groan at the way their erections pressed against each other. He dove in for another kiss, seemingly unable to keep his mouth away from Rick’s, and felt Rick’s hands slide down his sides to come to fumble with his belt. Negan paused for a minute to allow Rick to undo his pants, and after a moment of inelegant squirming on both their parts, Negan was down to his boxers.

Negan went for Rick’s neck again, sucking and nibbling and marking him shamelessly. One of Rick’s hands came up to rest on his shoulder, and Negan caught it, pinning it to the mattress. His other hand slid down to the waistband of Rick’s boxers, giving them an experimental tug. God, did he want them off, but he forced himself to resist the urge to strip Rick completely. He wanted Rick to be okay with this, with everything. If that meant giving Rick ample opportunity to put a stop to this, so be it. All he could do was hope Rick kept giving him the green light.

Disappointment hit Negan hard when Rick grabbed at his wrist, stilling it. He was about to ask if Rick wanted him to stop when Rick, using Negan’s hand, shoved this boxers down his thighs, leaving him naked and flushed underneath Negan.

“As sweet as that is, I’m ready for you to fuck me”. Rick whispered into Negan’s ear, and a filthy shudder ran through Negan’s body because goddamn, Rick Grimes. Negan grabbed both of Rick’s wrists, pinning him to the bed and smiling devilishly down at the man lying under him, taking a second to rake his eyes up and down Rick’s bare body and drink in the sight of his stiff cock leaking against his stomach.

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you, alright. I’ve waited way too goddamn long to slide my dick into that gorgeous ass of yours, Rick, way too fucking long.” Negan released Rick’s wrist to slide underneath his hips, roughly grabbing a handful of Rick’s ass, making him gasp, his full lips parting on a sharp breath. Negan grinned. “You’ve never been fucked by a man before, have your Rick?”

He already knew the answer, but he still appreciated the breathy “ _No_ ” he got in response. Negan nuzzled into the side of Rick’s neck and chuckled , amused by Rick’s breathless obedience in answering his question. “You’re in for one hell of a night, then.” He said, his hand releasing the handful of ass he held with one final squeeze before drifting down and beginning to push off his own boxers.

“I can’t wait to get my hands on you, to get inside you and work you open until you’re just beggingfor my dick.” Negan growled wetly into Rick’s ear, nipping at the lobe as he did. Rick moaned under him, and Negan relished the way Rick’s hard cock was pressed up against his stomach, already leaking.  _Fuck_ _yeah_ , Negan mused as he watched the way Rick’s tongue darted out to wet his lips when Negan pushed his own boxers off,  _it’s not going to take much to get him begging for it at all._

“Like what you see, Rick?” Negan teased, his smile widening. Rick’s face flushed, embarrassed to have been caught so openly checking him out. Negan smiled and ran the pad of his thumb over Rick’s lower lip. “Turn over, gorgeous. I’m gonna make you feel real fucking good”.

Rick obeyed immediately, scrambling to turn over onto his stomach. Negan huffed out a laugh at his eagerness. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of Rick’s bare ass before shuffling to the side of the bed and grabbing the bottle of lube he’d optimistically stashed there some weeks prior. He leaned over Rick, kissing his was down Rick’s back and delighting in the way Rick squirmed against the sheets. He couldn’t stop himself from giving Rick’s ass a sharp nip, laughing when Rick yelped in surprise.

Negan pushed Rick’s legs apart and settled between his thighs, his hands coming to rest on either side of Rick’s ass. Negan gripped Rick’s ass in his hands, squeezing and lightly massaging for a moment, letting Rick relax a bit before he spread him open, his vulnerable entrance on display to Negan’s hungry eyes. Negan pressed his thumb against the tight resistance of Rick’s opening, just slightly, causing Rick to whimper into the sheets. Negan smirked and grabbed the bottle, slicking his fingers and then rubbing one teasingly over Rick’s entrance. The soft whine Rick made into the sheets went straight to his dick, and he decided to show Rick a little mercy, sliding the finger inside and working Rick open slowly. Once he was groaning consistently, Negan slid in a second finger, pumping them in and out of Rick’s ass as Rick squirmed beneath him. He made a pretty picture, bare and writhing, and the scene he made only got better when Negan’s fingers found his prostate, rubbing insistently while Rick cried out and fisted the sheets.

“You okay down there, Rick? Sure as hell sounds like you’re having a good fucking time.” Rick made a small, needy noise in his throat, and Negan smirked, continuing to work him. “Fuck, Rick. You have any idea how fucking hot it is to have you under me like this?” Negan breathed out, voice deep and rumbling as he leaned over him, slick fingers still working Rick open. “I couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday morning all. Fucking. Day.” He punctuated the words with thrusts into Rick’s ass, making the smaller man whimper into the sheets.

“Jesus, I was so fucking hard by the end of the day. I was thinking about you the whole fucking time last night. You, laid out on our bed touching yourself for me. Fuck,” He groaned, leaning in closer and pressing the heat of his erection against Rick’s bare ass, “You, all spread out and moaning under me like you are right now.”

When Negan withdrew his fingers, Rick actually fucking whined, and goddamn if that didn’t make Negan even harder. He leaned over Rick, lips brushing the shell of his ear as he whispered, “Don’t worry, gorgeous, you’re not gonna be empty for long,” He nipped lightly at Rick’s ear as he sat back again, feeling Rick shiver against him. Negan grabbed the lube again, slicking himself before gripping one of Rick’s hips and lining himself up. He felt Rick tense against him suddenly, and his heart dropped. He pulled back a little, giving Rick some space. The last thing he wanted was for Rick to feel like he had to follow through. He wanted him so badly he was aching, but not if Rick had any trace of doubt.

“Rick,” Negan started, his voice gentle as he could make it, “Are you sure that you want this? Absolutely fucking sure? Because-”

Rick cut him off. “Yes, fuck yes, I’m sure. I’m fucking sure.” His voice was a needy babble, and Negan grinned, reassured.

“You fucking positive about that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice now teasing. “Cause I don’t wanna force you into anything you don’t want, you know.”

Rick growled impatiently. “Just fuck me, you bastard, I’m sure!” he snapped.

Negan’s grin widened and he pressed his cock back against Rick’s hole, still teasing. “What was that, Rick? I’m gonna need you to say that again. Ask me real nice and maybe I’ll fucking give it to you.” He was being a dick, he knew it. But still…he had said that he wanted Rick to beg. And Rick was already so wrecked, his body flushed and trying in vain to push back against Negan’s own.

“Please, I want it, I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me,” he begged.

“Good boy,” Negan grinned, and began to press inside, biting his lip as Rick’s heat engulfed him. Rick groaned out a throaty, appreciative noise, and Negan continued to press in, letting out a satisfied groan when he was fully inside Rick. “Fuck,” he hissed, leaning over Rick’s back so that his words were spoken mostly into Rick’s hair, “You are so. Goddamn. Tight.”

“Move,” Rick growled after a few moments, “Now. Fuck me.” Negan didn’t need to be told twice, pulling out and slamming back into Rick, causing them to moan in unison. Negan continued to fuck in and out of Rick, one hand gripping his hip and the other reaching forward to lace their fingers together on the mattress. God, he felt good- tight and slick, his hips rocking back to meet Negan’s thrusts.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. You like having my cock in you, Rick?”

He wanted to hear it- needed to hear how much Rick was loving it, and he got his wish, Rick moaning out, “Yes, oh, god yes,” in response before he was shouting out in pleasure when Negan hit his prostate. Negan felt Rick’s body clench around him, and he stammered out breathy curses against the smaller man’s skin, his cock throbbing inside of him.

Negan’s hand released Rick’s and slid down over his chest, tweaking his nipples and caressing his abdomen, unable to keep his hands off of Rick now that he had permission to touch. The hand drifted lower, Negan’s fingers stroking the coarse hair below his navel, teasing him, and Rick’s hips bucked forward, seemingly of their own volition.

Negan chuckled into the back of Rick’s neck, hips still rocking into the man below him. “You want something, Rick?” His hand slid lower, ignoring Rick’s aching cock to reach between his legs and cup his balls.

“Fucking touch me!” Rick snapped, and Negan smirked, loving the feisty edge to Rick’s desperation. Negan’s fingers dipped lower, brushing over the place where they were joined, tracing the slick opening with the pad of his finger.

“What’s the magic word, Rick?”

“Please!” Rick growled, his hips stuttering between wanting to push forward into Negan’s hand and back into Negan’s cock.

_Well, since you asked so damn nicely, Rick…_

Negan laughed again, taking mercy on Rick and moving his hand to wrap around Rick’s cock. He gave it an experimental stroke, causing Rick to keen and cry out immediately, thighs shaking and head bowing as he gripped the sheets.  _Good boy_ , Negan thought happily to himself as he spit into his hand and wrapped his fist around Rick’s length again, stroking him in time with rough thrusts in and out of Rick’s ass.

He had Rick’s face was half-buried in the mattress at this point, which did little to muffle the cries of pleasure escaping his throat as Negan worked him over. He was a whimpering, moaning mess, but Negan wasn’t much better off- he could feel himself getting close, the combination of Rick’s warm tightness around him and the sound of him moaning so sweetly as he was fucked having a nearly intoxicating effect on Negan.

“You gonna come for me, Rick?” Negan breathed into his ear, “I’d fucking love it if you did.”

And then, as if on command, Rick came, crying out and clenching hard around Negan, bucking into the hand still working his cock as he spilled over Negan’s fist and onto the sheets below.

Negan continued to fuck him through his orgasm, his movements growing faster and more erratic as he chased his release, finding it moments later with a ragged groan. He gripped Rick tightly as he came inside of him, shuddering and panting  until he was completely spent.

They both collapsed onto the bed afterwords- Rick face-first into the pillows and Negan rolling off to the side to avoid knocking the wind out of Rick.

Negan turned his head toward Rick, taking a moment to just  _look_. The man was truly gorgeous, his expression dreamy and flushed in his fucked-out state. It as something Negan could get used to seeing.

Their eyes met, and Rick rolled over onto his side. When he did, the sheets clung to his stomach, making him cringe Negan laugh heartily. “Yeah, that’s the problem when you get two dicks in the mix,” He chortled, “You get jizz fucking  _everywhere_.” He eyed Rick’s body for a moment longer before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked toward the bathroom. He turned back toward Rick expectantly. “Come on, I know you don’t want to go to sleep with that shit all over you.”


	22. The Truth- Interlude after Ch. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A fic of Negan getting off to Rick after what he did in Ch. 13

_Negan needed a shower. A long, cold shower._

Hell, he’d needed one since he’d stepped out of the bathroom that morning to see Rick sprawled out on their shared bed, one hand down the front of his tented boxers. What had come after Negan had intruded on that private moment- well, he couldn’t say that anything could have prepared him for it. Rick had, predictably, turned six shades of red and tried to cover himself, like that was somehow going to erase the image of him jerking off from Negan’s mind. Like  _anything_ could do that.

When Negan had told him to keep going, that he didn’t mind, he’d expected Rick to stutter and scoff and shoot him down violently, try to play off his red-faced embarrassment as annoyance. Instead, he had gone right along with it, laying back and letting Negan watch him, allowing Negan to tug off his boxers for a better view, obeying so nicely when Negan commended that he spread his legs…

Unfortunately, this had all happened minutes after Negan had taken his morning shower, and they had already been running late for today’s Alexandria pickup, so there had been no time to take care of the growing problem that Rick had created for him. He’d spent the day in Alexandria hanging over Rick, perhaps a bit more than he usually did. Fuck, he felt restless, his hands itching to be wrapped around Rick’s hips instead of carrying Lucille around.

Perhaps even more shameful than his constant state of arousal were his near-obsessive thoughts about what it all  _meant_. Was this Rick getting close to cracking, his impressive resolve chipping away so that they could finally consummate this whole marriage that Negan had proposed? Had Rick just been so frustrated and pent-up that he’d needed to get off, regardless of Negan watching him? Or was this some kind of strange bid for power, a way of dangling the carrot, so to speak? Rick knew that Negan wanted him. Hell, he hadn’t exactly been subtle about it, even from their first night together. Rick had been pushing back against him more lately, meeting him as a sparring partner rather than the broken man he’d first met. Negan adored it, that spark in him. He’d known it was there, of course, buried deep beneath the suffocating layers of grief and trauma Negan had caused him. It had taken him some time, but he was finally catching glimpses of the terrifying badass that had led his group into one of Negan’s outposts and slaughtered upwards of twenty men in their sleep. Not that Negan had been particularly thrilled about that, but  _goddamn_  if it hadn’t caught his attention.

For all his teasing that Rick was starting to warm up to him, Negan was smart enough to know that there was no way that was true- he just like seeing Rick get riled up. He knew better than to expect Rick to start thinking of him as anything other than an enemy, but he was hopeful that maybe they could turn all that rage and boiling hatred into something that could benefit them both. Hatefuck buddies, Negan mused. Enemies with benefits.

He didn’t expect anything like that from Rick, not yet, at least, so when he asked if Rick was planning on sleeping with him later than night when they got back to the Sanctuary, he wasn’t surprised when Rick had balked and turned him down. No harm, no foul, though it would have been a more than welcome shock if he’d said yes.

Negan climbed the stairs to his quarters, dropping by Tanya’s room on the way there to ask if she was in the mood to keep him company for an hour to two. He got a wry smirk and a yes out of her, with the promise that she’d be up in a few minutes.

Good. Gave him some time to finally grab that shower he’d been craving all day.

He didn’t bother with a cold one now that he had some time to himself. Instead, he cranked the heat up, letting the small room fog up with thick steam and enjoying the way the hot water massaged the ache of tension out of his shoulders. He gave a deep, contented sigh and let his thoughts wander back to Rick’s actions that morning.

Rick looked damn good on his back, that was for sure. Better than Negan could have conjured up in a fantasy, all flushed pink and trembling thighs as he’d stroked himself. He thought of that initial squirming embarrassment Rick had displayed when Negan had pulled him out of bed and discovered that he was hard. That hazy, lustful look in his blue eyes when Negan had offered to help him out. He’d seen the way Rick’s resolve had wavered, caught between how he felt about Negan and wanting desperately to get some relief. He’d been so close to saying yes, Negan was sure of it.

Negan breathed in lungfuls of steamy air, his cock twitching to life between his thighs. Unable to resist the lustful pull in his gut that had been building all day, he gave himself a few experimental strokes, bringing himself to full hardness.

_Fuck it. Tanya will appreciate me lasting longer, anyway._

He closed his eyes and relaxed into the sensation, remembering how Rick had looked on the bed: white t-shirt rucked up to expose smooth skin and a flat stomach, hips that Negan could so easily picture his hands wrapping around as he fucked into the smaller man. Muscular thighs, spread open wide, revealing his thick, leaking cock, the head wet and glistening against the taught muscle of his stomach. Negan groaned, speeding up the motions of his hand and leaning forward, bracing his hand against the wet tile of the shower wall for support.

Rick had looked fucking gorgeous touching himself, and Negan had told him as much as he watched from his place at the foot of the bed. So goddamned gorgeous, hips bucking into his hand, small, breathy noises escaping full pink lips as he’d brought himself closer to the edge. And the look on his face when he came- eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open, balls tight and heavy between open thighs, come spilling over his fingers and onto his belly. Negan hadn’t thought before he’d leaned in and dragged his fingers through the mess, taking a taste. His mind had been as foggy as the shower stall he was in now, clouded with lust for the man breathing heavy and spent on the bed. Negan bit his lip, thumbing the head of his cock, breaths coming in quick pants.

_Rick, laying himself out for him._

_Rick, nodding with interest when Negan asked to undress him._

_Rick, head thrown back as Negan watched him climax._

_Rick-_

Negan groaned the name through his orgasm, head dropping until his forehead was pressed against the cool tile of the shower wall. The water was running a bit cooler now, soothing against his back and legs as he collected himself.

Sated, he shut off the water and toweled dry, not bothering to get dressed again when he knew Tanya was probably on her way up. He stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing at his wet hair, towel slung over his shoulder to see Tanya already waiting on his bed, smirking over at him like she knew something she shouldn’t.

“Have a nice shower?” She asked, her eyes a little too falsely innocent, tone a little too teasing. Negan gave her an easy grin.

“Sure did, darlin’. You ready for me?”

“Yep,” She licked he lips and lay back against the pillows. “You sure you don’t need a few minutes, though? Sounded like you were enjoying yourself  _a lot_  in there.”

He let the teasing roll off his back. “I’m always ready for more, you ought to know that by now.”

“Heard something real interesting while you were in there. These walls are pretty thin, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked.

“Yeah. Sounded an awful lot like a name…” Her eyes danced with mirth. “Rick? Really? You gettin’ a little crush on your husband, Negan?”

Negan growled, tossing the towel aside and crossing the room to join Tanya on the bed. “What I get off to in my own time is nobody’s fucking business but mine, darlin’. Now c’mere and help me out, would you? I think I’m more than ready for round two.”

_A crush on Rick_ , Negan scoffed to himself,  _fucking ridiculous._


	23. The Truth- Carl talks To Michonne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Michonne discussing Rick's situation in The Truth

Carl hadn’t cried when Rick left for the Sanctuary, but Rick did. Not a lot, but when he’d hugged Carl goodbye, tight and fierce while two of Negan’s goons waited impatiently at the gate, Carl had heard a sniffle. 

When Rick had pulled back, his eyes had been wet and red-rimmed. Carl understood, he really did. But there was a part of him that was embarrassed by his father’s tears. He’d watched, Judith in his arms, as Michonne kissed him one last time. And then he was gone, whisked away to marry the man who had killed Glenn and Abraham. Carl understood that, too: the burden of guilt his father felt, the weight he carried as the leader. Of course he had jumped at the first chance Negan gave him to try to lighten the load that Alexandria was going to be forced to carry from now on. It didn’t mean Carl had to like it.

“C’mon,” Michonne said gently, hand on his shoulder. “Let’s distract ourselves. I found a stack of batman comics on my last run.”

–

The first couple weeks had been the hardest to adjust to. As much as Carl hated to admit it, he missed having his dad around. It wasn’t that he never saw him, though. That had been surprising. Rick showed up a few times a week, helping out on runs and around Alexandria before heading back to the Sanctuary at night.

“Why’s he letting you come back?” Carl had asked.

Rick had looked just as confused as him, rubbing a hand through his hair. “He said…he said that he wouldn’t keep me from my family. That he’s not a monster.”

Carl had snorted at that, because what the hell was Negan if not a monster?

But, to his credit, Negan let Rick come see Carl and Judith. Carl always tried to ask his dad how he was, figure out if he was okay, what was happening to him. The other citizens of Alexandria had their ideas about what was happening to him, as much as they tried to hush their gossip when they saw Carl.

“It looked like he was limping when he showed up, right?”

“Of course he was. You heard what Negan said.  He’s not there as a prisoner, he’s there as his husband- you know that’s got to mean he’s-”

Carl tried his best to ignore them, tried not to think about it. But Rick wouldn’t tell him anything, just said the same thing every time Carl asked.

_“I’m fine, Carl. Really, I’m okay. I just want to know how you and your sister are doing. Has your eye been healing well? Your aim getting any better? Michonne said you were doing target practice with Daryl…”_

Carl never saw the supposed limp or any other evidence that Negan was hurting him, but he worried anyway. He asked Michonne one day, unable to hold back.

“Has he…has he said anything to you? About what Negan’s been doing to him? Is he hurting him?” His voice sounded small, childlike in a way that he hated. He tried so hard to push stuff like that behind him, but this was his  _dad_.

Michonne pulled him into a hug, trying to comfort him. “He always tells me that he isn’t. I haven’t seen him look injured, and he seems…he seems okay, Carl. He really does.” She pulled back to look him in the eye. “I would tell you if I thought he wasn’t. I would. You deserve to know. But I can read him pretty well, and he really does seem like he’s okay.”

Carl shuffled awkwardly, looked at the ground. “Everyone’s saying that- that he’s…”

Michonne shook her head fiercely. “No. That’s not happening to him. He told me it wasn’t, and I believe him.”

“What do you think he wants him for, then?”

“It could be any number of things. It could just be him wanting Rick out of Alexandria. Easier to control us with our leader gone. It could be that he doesn’t trust Rick to not stage a revolt against him, and he’s keeping an eye on him.”

“But why  _marry_  him, then?” Carl asked, his mouth twisting around the word. “Just to…to humiliate him?”

“Maybe,” Michonne answered. “Or maybe Negan just really wants a friend.”

The ridiculous idea broke the tension in the room, and both of them doubled over laughing, tears in their eyes. Carl’s hat fell off and clattered to the floor, and Michonne gripped the kitchen counter for support as he body shook with laughter.

“We- we shouldn’t be laughing,” Carl shook out, catching his breath. “It’s not funny.” It was a little funny, the idea of Negan holding Rick hostage just because he was lonely. But it felt wrong to laugh, like they were mocking Rick’s situation instead of Negan.

Michonne plucked his hat off the floor and dropped it back on his head, adjusting it so that it didn’t cover his eyes. “It’s not,” she agreed, “But sometimes you’ve got to make light of situations like this. Even just for a moment.”

Carl swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and then, “I miss him. It’s weird, being here without him. I thought it’d be easier, but…I miss him a lot. I wish it was him giving me shooting lessons. Daryl’s great, but…but it should be him. He tries to make up for it when he’s here, but he should be here all the time. Judith misses him, too. I can tell. She gets upset when he leaves.”

“That’s good,” Michonne said suddenly, and Carl gave her a strange look. “It’s good that she misses him. I know how that sounds, but it is. If she wasn’t getting upset, it would mean…it would mean that she wasn’t feeling as attached to him anymore. That she was forgetting him.”

Carl’s stomach turned unpleasantly. The thought of Judith not remembering her own father, even though he was alive…he didn’t want to think about it.

“I miss him, too,” Michonne said quietly, like it was a secret. Like she was entrusting Carl with something that was hard for her to admit.

“We have to bring him home, Michonne. We have to. We can’t live like this. We couldn’t even if he was here. All these people going out on supply runs, coming back with less each time and then the Saviors come and take half of it…we’re not going to make it if we don’t do something.”

Michonne’s face was grim, but resolute. “I know. Believe me, I know. And I promise you, Carl, we’re going to get him back. We’re going to rise up.”


	24. My Dirty Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing in here that isn't Regan related- short drabble of Negan having some "alone time" with Lucille the bat. 
> 
> This is based off a line in the comics, I swear. He says (to Rick): "If I could...I'd fuck her. And yes...that means in my most private of moments that I've probably rubbed my dick against her."

Negan’s not really sure why he’s doing this when he’s got a handful of gorgeous women that are more than willing to service his dick. Just last week, Amber had done this  _thing_ with her fingers that had him seeing stars and shooting so hard he may have blacked out for a moment. 

But despite that, here he is anyway, holed up in his room with the door tightly locked and Lucille in hand. If he didn’t know better- which he most certainly fucking  _does_ \- he would think the bat was judging him. 

The bat. The fucking  _bat_. She’s not real, but her barbs seem threateningly sharp today, like they’re trying to dissuade him. They’re freshly cleaned and shining in the low light streaming in through his bedroom window. 

“Did so good today,” he croons, and somehow that makes the whole thing seem more natural to him. He talks to Lucille all the time. “Smashing up those fucking deadie heads like they were goddamned pinatas. Pinatas full of fucking  _brains_.” He should probably be a little concerned that the image is making him harder. Not the brain-goo part, of course, but the smashing. His Lucille cracking skulls like a bat outta hell. He snickers to himself at that.

“My dirty girl,” he purrs, sliding his aching dick up against the handle. “Takin’ care of me. Savin’ my life.” He groans, the friction of the well-worn wood just on the edge of painful, and somehow…that makes it better. He lets his mind go blank, not thinking about the actual  _what_ of what he’s doing and choosing to focus on how goddamned good it feels. 

“Yeah, baby. Just like that. You know just what I like, nice and fucking hard. You like that, Lucille? I know you do, baby, I fucking know it.” He’s closer than he expected so soon, the handle getting slick as he rubs up against it. A few more rutting thrusts against the smooth wood, and he’s finished, shooting over his fist and his prized bat while he grunts and groans. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t feel particularly ashamed after the fact. His Lucille, all covered in come. Somehow, it just seems right. He presses a kiss to a clean, unbarbed part of her and drags himself out of bed on wobbly legs, admiring her one last time before grabbing a towel to clean her up. 

“You always know just what I fucking need, Lucille.”


	25. Dom! Rick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut with some dominant Rick

Rick snagged Negan by the red scarf around his neck, jerking the taller man back into his space. “C’mon, Negan,” he purred, digging deep down for that side of him that Lori had always lovingly teased him about- the playful cockiness that he knew he still possessed beneath the layers of submission and subjugation Negan had ground him into. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I  _know_ you want me. And I’m offerin’ to give it to you.”

Negan reeled back, eyebrows jumping up his forehead. “Well fuck  _me_ , Rick! I don’t know what the hell you think you were seeing, but I can guarantee that anything that happens between us is gonna end up with me balls-deep inside you. Doesn’t that sound just  _peachy_?” He licked his lips, and Rick met his wolflike gaze evenly.

“Maybe another time. Depends on how good you are today.” He tugged down the zipper at the front of Negan’s leather jacket, shoving it off of his shoulders and onto his bedroom floor. “C’mon, Negan. You really gonna tell me you’ve never thought about us like this? Me, on top of you? I know you have.”

Negan’s smirk didn’t waver as he reached for Rick’s shirt, rucking it up and pulling it over his head. Rick preened a little under Negan’s appreciative gaze as it roamed over his bare chest. “You ever even fucked a man, Rick? How can I trust you to show me a good time?”

Rick’s hand wandered down Negan’s chest, not stopping until he was cupping Negan through his pants, tracing the stiff outline of his cock through the rough fabric. “Not my first time, Negan. Not by a long shot.” He gave the bulge a playful squeeze and relished the sharp breath Negan sucked in above him. “Now take your clothes off.”

When they were both stripped, Rick all but shoved Negan backwards onto the bed, shooting him a dangerous look that said  _don’t move_  before retrieving a single discarded item from the floor.

Negan’s dark eyes widened at the sight of his scarf in Rick’s hands, his usual bravado stripped away. “The fuck are you gonna do with that, Rick?” There was a note of excitement in his voice that Rick instantly adored, and he crawled up the bed, straddling Negan’s hips and leaning over him until they were a breath apart.

“Gonna tie your hands behind your back. And then I’m gonna finger you open for my dick,” he traced one finger down the length of it, standing swollen and stiff between his thighs, and the light brush of it made him shudder. “And then I’m gonna fuck you. And you’re gonna  _love_  it.”

He thought Negan would fight him more, but the man seemed hooked, hanging onto Rick’s every word with hungry, fevered interest. “ _Fuck_. Fucking fuck me, Rick. I hope your cock’s as good as your talk.”

At that, Rick was off of him and flipping Negan easily over onto his back. The taller man gave a surprised huff at the change, but Rick was already yanking his arms behind his back and winding the red scarf tightly around his wrists. He watched as Negan’s fingers twitched-  _Nervous? Excited?_ \- and leaned in, deciding to show the man beneath him a little mercy. He finished off the knot and pressed a sweet kiss to each bound wrist before trailing biting kisses up the line of Negan’s spine, holding the man’s hips down and feeling him squirm underneath him. He stopped at the nape of Negan’s neck, lingering there and nosing at the sensitive skin. “You alright, Negan?”

“Yeah. Never fucking better, Rick,” He breathed, voice growing huskier. “You wanna hurry the fuck up? My dick’s a little fuckin’ impatient.”

Rick grabbed a handful of Negan’s ass, squeezing roughly and smiling smugly at the breathless noise Negan made. “I knew you’d come around, Negan.”

Rick never could have anticipated the sounds Negan make when he was being stretched open on lube-slick fingers. Groans at the pushes inward, something awfully close to a  _whine_  when Rick crooked his fingers just so, Negan’s legs spreading wider against the sheets. Rick let Negan do the talking for now- it seemed the man’s constant chatter followed him into the bedroom.

“Yes,  _fuck_ , yes, Rick,  _ooh_  darlin’, just like that. You weren’t lying, were you? Feel like I should send a thank you note to the lucky fuckin’ pricks you fucked before me, because they taught you-  _ah!_ \- t-taught you real fuckin’ good.”

_All talk_ , Rick thought. All that fucking talk, but when Rick finally slid home, hands rough and bruising on Negan’s hips, the man didn’t seem to have any words left. His face was turned to the side among the pillows, eyes squeezed shut as Rick rocked slowly, teasingly, into him. His mouth never closed, but the only words Rick could make out through the moans and low whines were garbled curses and his own name.

“Ri- _Rick_ , fuck, shit,  _oh-h_ , fuck, Rick-”

It was a sight to behold, he thought: Negan, hands pulling desperately at the crimson binding around them as Rick slid in and out of him, building his pace until his hips were smacking against Negan’s ass, bruising him, making him groan even louder.

“You- you love this don’t you, Negan?” He mocked, feeling sweat drip down his neck, over his chest. “Love me fucking you like this.” He released one hip to yank at the scarf, and Negan’s whole body jumped at the roughness. “Tell me. Tell me you love it, Negan.”

“L-love it. Fuckin’ love it, Rick,” Negan slurred into the sheets, and Rick rewarded him with smooth, deep thrusts that left them both shaking.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” Rick breathed out, not sure where the endearment came from. It rolled off his tongue so easily, and Negan actually fucking  _whimpered_  at the sound of it. “C’mon, baby. Come for me. Show me how much you love havin’ my cock inside you.”

Negan came so quickly at the command that it seemed almost like obedience, and the thought of it- of Negan, of all people, being obedient to him- drove Rick wild. He raked his fingers down Negan’s back as the man moaned and shook through his orgasm, and two deep thrusts later he was bowing over Negan’s body, tensing as the pleasure mastered him and he came deep inside of the other man.

Rick untied Negan’s wrists as he came down from his high, rubbing them to get the bloodflow back into his hands. Negan made a soft, relaxed noise into the pillow and groped blindly for Rick’s arm, pulling him down onto the bed beside him. 

“So,” he asked, cracking an eye over at Rick. “Did I do alright? You gonna let me fuck you next time?”

Rick let his fingers wander down Negan’s heated skin. “Maybe. Sure seemed like you liked my cock, though.”


	26. For the love of pork and beans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Comic!AU Negan has a huge appetite and Rick gets pissed at him because he eats most of the food they bring on long runs...

Rick blinked into the empty backpack, trying to wrack his brain for some explanation.  _We’ve only been out here two days, how the hell did we manage to eat all of it already-_

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, I meant to mention that earlier,” Negan chimed in suddenly, wriggling up a little closer than necessary to see into the bag. “I finished off the last of the pork and beans this morning.”

“The last of…” Rick shook his head, blinking up at Negan. “Negan, there was enough food in here to last us the full week.”

“Shit, that’s all you packed?”

“ _All_  I packed? There was enough food in here for two people to eat for a  _week_!” He glanced at Negan’s stomach. “How the hell did you eat that much?  _Why_ the hell did you eat that much?”

“Hey, hey!” Negan yelped, playfully shoving the side of Rick’s head to cast his gaze elsewhere. “Don’t look at me like some pretty judgmental fucking angel, Rick. I left you a couple of those peanut butter granola bars you like so damn much. You know how long it’s been since I’ve had free reign of food? I spend two fucking years in that cell getting by on cold lima beans and stale crackers! You put a bunch of cans in pork and beans in front of me, I’m not responsible for what happens.”

Rick groaned, zipping the bag back up. “You were well-fed in that cell. I made sure of it.”

Negan had somehow gotten an arm around Rick’s shoulders, tucking him in close to the side of his body. “I’m pretty sure someone was trying to poison me. Who the hell did the fucking cooking? One time I had this thing- to this very day, I still don’t know what it was supposed to be, Rick. Could have been cake, could have been chicken, could have been some kind of fucking vegetable medley that congealed and got hard as a damn rock. There was no fucking telling. Either way,  _I ate it_ , because I’m a proud fucking member of the clean plate club, and proceeded to spend the next two hours puking into my bucket.”

“I remember that. It was a cookie.  _I_  baked them, I was trying to see if I could.” Rick replied, frowning at the ground. “Andrea said she liked them…”

Negan’s arm tightened around Rick’s shoulders. Just a little, but he could feel it, warmth pressing into him comfortingly. “Andrea was a goddamned liar. About that, anyway.”

“It was nice that she tried to  _spare my feelings_  about it,” Rick said pointedly, and Negan laughed, one hand on his belly.

“Rick, I don’t fucking mince words with you, you know that! Thought we had an agreement not to lie to each other anymore.”

“Yeah, well,” Rick grumbled. “All this to say that you’re gonna have to go catch some dinner for us, since you decided to eat our rations for the week. This explains a lot, actually. I thought you seemed kind of sluggish when we were trying to get out of that one house with the three roamers in the basement.”

“Can-fucking-do, Rick!” Negan snatched up the rifle in the back of the truck and slid out the back. “You gonna come along and keep the deadies off my back, or am I on my own? You gonna turn me into Negan’s delivery service? Guaranteed rabbit or squirrel in a half-fucking-hour or your money back?”

“I’ll come,” Rick said, smiling to himself. “Can’t have you getting caught out there alone.”

**–-**

“Is it weird that I like the fucking pork and beans better?” Negan asked around a mouthful of roasted rabbit meat. He and Rick had built a small fire as night had fallen, and were huddled close together around it, the late autumn chill creeping in and numbing their fingers. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the fresh shit is great, but I was never much of a chef, you know? Not with this wilderness shit, anyway. And clearly you can’t tell medium rare from raw. I think Peter Rabbit might still have some fucking hop in him.”

“Shut up,” Rick muttered around a mouthful of admittedly too-rare meat.  _Do not prove him right and gag on it._  “It looked done. It was getting black on the outside.”

“Yeah, because you all but dumped the fucking thing straight in the fire, Rick!”

“Well, let this be a lesson. Don’t eat all the food we pack in the first two days.”

Negan’s smile was brilliant in the flickering firelight. He so rarely looked wolflike to Rick these days. “So does that mean we’re gonna keep going out together like this, Rick?”

“Maybe.” Rick skewered his rabbit again and stuck it back over the fire. “Depends on how well you cook for me tonight.”


	27. Not Too Impressive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Negan pulls a muscle or twists an ankle doing something trying to impress an amused Rick

“Ooh, Rick! Watch this shit, fucking watch this!”

They’d been playing this game for half the afternoon, where Negan made increasingly daring-  _and impractical_ \- roamer kills while they were out scavenging.  It all started with Rick making the fatal mistake of saying “Nice shot” when Negan whipped out his gun and nailed a roamer in the head from at least fifteen yards away while it stumbled in between the trees.

Rick knew immediately that he’d made a mistake as soon as the words slipped out- Negan’s head had whipped around so fast that Rick was surprised he hadn’t heard a crack, and the man had worn a positively gleeful smile, looking like a small child who had gotten to sit in the lap of a mall Santa for the first time.

Than man was an overgrown puppy, so eager to please when it came to Rick. Why Negan craved his approval so deeply, Rick couldn’t begin to fathom. But today, it had warranted a series of risky kills all in the name of impressing him, and while it had been entertaining, Rick could see this going much too far. Negan wasn’t a man to hold back, and he certainly didn’t know how to quit while he was ahead. Rick had to admit- it had been amusing to watch Negan taking out the dead in such a ridiculous manner, and made the long bouts of walking pass much faster. He’d particularly enjoyed the one that Negan had managed to down with the skillful- or perhaps just _lucky_ \- throw of a knife. But this? This was too much.

“Negan,” Rick warned, eyeing the roamer caught up between two branches of a tree. It was old, eyeballs rotted clear out of its skull, an arm and leg missing entirely, the bone in a mushy pile on the softened ground about ten feet below where it was stuck. Rick shuddered thinking about how horrible it must have been to die like that. “Just shoot it, if you’ve really got to. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Negan did something stupid anyway.

“I’ve fucking got this, Rick! Watch me climb this shit, I’m like George of the fucking Jungle.  _Negan_ _of the fucking Virginia woodlands_.”

Ten feet up in a tree, the man would have looked like a creeping panther in his black jacket had he not been clinging to the branch like a terrified baby squirrel. He held his knife aloft, and Rick had a sudden horrible vision of Negan falling out of the tree and plummeting to his death on his own knife.

“Negan, please just get the fuck down, I really don’t want to haul your ass home if you fall.”

“You worry to goddamn much, Rick,” Negan shouted gleefully, sinking his knife into the roamer’s wasted skull. “See? I’m fucking fine. Just gonna jump down now.”

“No.  _Negan_ , just climb back down, don’t fucking jump…!”

He did. Of course. With a boastful cry of, “Watch my form!”

His form, Rick thought, was rather poor, judging by the way he landed and immediately shouted in pain, pitching to the side and gripping at his right ankle.

“Fuckity fucking motherfucking dick-sucking  _fuck_!” Negan landed ungracefully on his ass, frowning down at his leg. “Fucking shit. I really though I had that.”

Rick scrubbed a hand through his short hair, sighing deeply and covering the half-laugh-half-groan that bubbled up out of him. He walked over, crouching beside Negan and unlacing his boot, wincing in sympathy when Negan hissed as he tugged it off. “Your form was shitty, Negan. I give it a two out of ten.” He slid the leg of Negan’s pants up a bit, fingers brushing skin and coarse leg hair.

Negan grunted a pained laugh. “Two out of fucking ten? Fuck, that’s harsh. You got a grading curve or some shit? Bonus points for taking out the roamer, at least?”

Rick’s fingers gently prodded at the swelling already forming at Negan’s ankle. “Two point five, then.” The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. “I told you not to jump, you idiot. Told you not to go up there in the first place, actually.”

“I got it, didn’t I? And technically, I didn’t actually fall. I just…didn’t stick the fucking landing.” He sucked in a sharp breath as Rick pulled out the first aid kit he’d packed in his backpack and wrapped Negan’s ankle. “Be fucking gentle with me, Rick.”

Rick was gentle, his fingers working deftly and gingerly to avoid causing the ridiculous man beside him more pain.

“You gonna kiss it better?” Negan joked when he was done, and Rick shot him an exasperated look. He thought he caught a bit of sheepish hopefulness in Negan’s voice.

“You wish,” Rick muttered, shoving himself up to his feet and reaching out a hand to Negan. “Now c’mon. Let’s get back to the truck. Can’t have you out here with a sprained ankle.”


	28. Mama Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Comicverse- Motherly Rick taking care of Negan after he eats too much

“Riiiick-”

“Negan,” Rick chided, shaking his head, “you brought this on yourself.”

Negan groaned again, dramatically rubbing at his stomach. His shirt had ridden up a little- just enough to expose a bit of skin. Rick hated that his eyes kept sliding down to that spot.

“Hey, hey!” Negan clutched at Rick’s shirtsleeve when he rose to stand, and Rick sighed deeply, settling back down onto the edge of the couch Negan was sprawled on. “Where are you fucking going, Rick? You’re not gonna take care of me?”

He wore what looked to be a pout-  _ridiculous_ , Rick thought.  _Fucking ridiculous man._

“You ate too much, Negan,” he said, shaking his head. “Should have stopped after the first serving. You look about ready to throw it all back up.”

“Couldn’t fucking help myself, Rick. This was the first time in…fuck, in a long-ass fucking time that I had a meal that good. I fucking love spaghetti, you know that? It’s a fucking classic. The hell did you make the meatballs out of? Actually-” he waved Rick down before he could even open his mouth. “Forget it. I don’t wanna know. It could be dead guy guts for all I care. It was goddamned delicious.”

“Good to know,” Rick said, and Negan grinned wickedly up at him.

“You’re a real good chef, Rick. Regular Emeril Legasse. You tryin’ to butter me up, baby? Get on my good side with a nice romantic home cooked meal? Because it fucking worked-”

Rick snorted.  _Romantic, really?_  “Carl made dinner. And I’m pretty sure I’m already on your good side.”

Negan scoffed, but the mirth in his eyes betrayed him. “That fucking so, Rick? You seem awful confident. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Rick had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes. “You saying you don’t enjoy my company? Because I can leave if that’s the case-”

“No no no!” Negan yelped, pawing at Rick’s arm again. “Don’t go, Rick. Just…I really feel like shit, alright? Can’t you be sweet to a poor fucking guy in pain? You know when I told you I was going to mama bird some wisdom into that pretty mouth of yours? Well, now it’s your turn to mama bird me.”

Rick fought a smile, hand sliding over Negan’s belly to take over where the other man’s was rubbing. Negan’s breath hitched a little in his throat, and Rick’s palm stroked warm and gentle over the thin cotton. “This better, you big baby?”

Negan laid back, humming contentedly deep in his throat. “Oh yeah. Fuck, that’s the shit, Rick. Just like that.


End file.
